


I Want (The Love On Your Wrist)

by MAVEfm



Series: Le Velo Pour Deux [3]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Motionless in White (Band), My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: 2005, Alternate Universe - 2000s, Alternate Universe - A Little Less Sixteen Candles (Music Video), Alternate Universe - Magic, Blood, Blood Drinking, Gen, Magic, Mild Gore, Urban Fantasy, Vampire Gerard Way, Vampire Hunters, Vampire Mikey Way, Vampires, Wendigo, also sidenote NO ONE is actually straight, and you know whats even LESS likely? meeting a straight one, literally what tf tags am i supposed to be using to get this to pop off, so stop discriminating against me because its gen it'll get gayer!!!, you know whats not likely? meeting a vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-08 01:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 68,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16420103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAVEfm/pseuds/MAVEfm
Summary: As if things couldn't get any worse, besides Gerard Way's straining relationship with his forever 17 year old kid brother, he's suddenly been trusted to run Father Schechter's Church: Our Lady Of Thorns Sacred Heart Church. Of course, Carrie Brownstein always steps in to save his ass from time to time, so that's nice.But it's always getting worse, cursed college students that can't stop dreaming of death, his brother's stupid annoying Fresh-Turned friends, and a devoted christian/republican lady that just won't stop. Along with the ever growing nationwide conspiracy to halt access to blood banks, Gerard now has to take charge of more than just the Homily, even though he'd really rather just watch movies with Joe.(A lot of this might not make sense without reading the first two in the series)





	1. Brothers, Part One

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ  
> OKAY! I've had so many technical difficulties getting this up lo BUT what YOU need to know is that this takes place during and then after the events of Let's All Pretend. So maybe you'll see some ~familiar faces~  
> By the way, if you want to keep updated on this series, PLEASE subscribe to the series! i dont really write any of these with chapters so the only way to stay up to date is through that page. This is just those rare occurrences that made me post in Two chapters because its so long  
> Sorry if the images aren't loading for you by the way! I guess there's something wrong with my code but and it'll be resolved the SECOND i figure it out and GOD detting this up was a pain, did you know by Characters they mean ALL types?? Spaces even??? god this is only 68k but according to AO3 its WAY over i mean wtf fix your site lol

_Hey G, thank you for taking over for me!_

_I wouldn’t expect you to say no or anything, you’re not that_

_type of guy. I already know you put everything into the services_

_anyway so this will be perfect for you!! You get to practice_

_while I’m away, and I know you’ll do awesome. I can’t give you_

_much in the way of direction, but Carrie knows everything_

_so just ask her for help if you need it, Lord knows she's saved_

_my ass more than once!_

_The bread and wine I blessed should last the whole mission_

_and there’s gas money for the hearse, you can use it but you_

_already knew that, good luck!!!!!_

_Brian_

 

 

  * ****Handwritten note from Father Brian Schechter to Gerard Way, 20, pinned to a corkboard at Our Lady of Thorns Sacred Heart Church, San Antonio, Texas****



 

 

* * *

 

 

“Bless me, Father, for- for I have sinned,” The voice shook slightly, “I can’t remember my last confession.” A deep and nervous breath could be heard through the grated window.

 

“There’s no shame in that,” Gerard soothed, “You’re welcome here no matter how long you were away.” He looked straight ahead to the thin cracks in the grated confessional window, where the bright light from the church shined through warm and dim.

 

There was a small sniff, “I’ve been… Lying. A lot, to my family, about everything.”

 

Gerard nodded, “It’s easy to fall into that trap, but you can’t let it rule your life.”

 

The voice agreed with a clouded:  _“Yeah,”_ and continued: “I don’t… I did something bad, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

 

Gerard sucked in a breath, “You’re here to relieve that weight - I can’t judge you, and confession brings forgiveness.” He tried projecting a smile into his voice.

 

“I stole… Blood,” the voice tips quiet for a second: “I stole blood from this homeless guy.” He spoke quick, ashamed, and waited painfully for Gerard’s response.

 

“I understand.”

 

A heavy sigh of relief could be heard through the window, “It wasn’t like… It wasn’t like I bit him, he was already... I just- I don’t have any money and the dealer from the hospital was going around and-” He choked, “I took one bag, while he wasn’t listening and I just- He was probably saving up for them for forever-”

 

“Take a breath,” Gerard hesitated. Father Schechter might have had something better to say, something that could soothe him, but his mission in Guatemala had put Gerard in charge.

 

“I don’t know what to do,” The boy sniffed and Gerard could see the shadowy figure put his head in his hands. “I can’t just tell my parents that I’m… And since I’ve moved back in with them I just-” He was shaking his head.

 

Gerard nodded, “It’s okay to be afraid, San Antonio is a safe place for us.”

 

Which was true, and while San Antonio, Texas, wasn’t a true safe haven, it was one of the few cities with a real hands-on approach involving its nocturnal citizens, who reached out from churches and shelters more than Gerard had ever seen. Or at least, Our Lady of Thorns Sacred Heart Church had a hands-on approach, catering to vampires and their families directly.

 

Other than that, it was as Sightless as any other town.

 

“If possible, you should return what is not yours,” Gerard said, finally, “Ask to make this right-”

 

“How do I-” The voice interrupted, “How do I even tell my family? I just told them I’m gay and… And they’ve been so amazing about it I can’t just-”

 

“I know,” Gerard thought, “For now… Think of the present, of what was stolen, Our Lady can provide a way out of that.”

 

The boy was silent, then asked: “I can’t return it, I- I already drank it-”

 

“The church office, you can tell them what happened.” answered Gerard, “Our blood drive is soon, please join us, and tonight, remember to pray a Hail Mary, to ask for forgiveness.”

 

“Yeah…,” They paused, “Yeah.”

 

“And come to me, whenever you need help,” Gerard added quickly, “Inside or outside of the confessional.”

 

The boy left with a small series of  _‘thank you’s_ until the wood door slammed shut, leaving Gerard alone once again.

 

He pulled at the clerical collar at his neck, sitting back in the musty red chair of the confessional, the dark wood of the box settling around him comfortably. It was private in a way the rest of the church wasn’t, and Gerard knew Mikey would scoff if he ever told him that.

 

Listening to people confess and feel remorse for their actions was therapeutic.

 

Gerard had probably sat in both sides of the confessional hundreds of times, yet he always loved it more.

 

Except maybe-

 

“Hey, bless me,” The door on the other side clattered open and slammed shut, “Or I guess… I don’t know, does it work if I’m confessing somebody else’s sins for them?”

 

Gerard snorted, “No, Mikey, it really doesn’t.”

 

“Well, what else am I supposed to do when my brother spends way too much time listening to people gripe about all the times they’ve lied about quitting  _smoking_ instead of living in the real world?”

 

“If you needed something you could have knocked.”

 

“G I’ve done that so many times, Schechter had to politely ask me to stop,” Mikey sighed, and Gerard could see him slump down in the chair. “I’ve worn a hole in the door,” which was somewhat true - there was a dent on the door to Gerard’s side from the few times Mikey had used his fists instead of his words.

 

“And every single time you told me you would be out in a minute!” Mikey snapped, “I once came back and you were sleeping in here like it was a coffin.”

 

Gerard sighed, resigning to fate and standing, stepping out of the safety of the confessional and out under the high ceilings of Our Lady of Thorns where the pillars and stretched stained glass windows made him feel small.

 

Mikey followed him out, cleaning his glasses on his dark t-shirt and adjusting the thick, army green parka worn around his shoulders. _It’s Summer,_ Gerard thought, which was what he always thought when he saw Mikey in the parka.

 

Which was all of the time.

 

Gerard looked around the sanctuary and nodded at a few churchgoers who had come to pray on a day with no service; “So, what did you want?”

 

Mikey shoved his hands deep in the pockets of the parka, “Miss Macy is in the church office.” He rolled his eyes as hard as he could, and Gerard died just a little when he heard the name, “She asked for Father Schechter, so I told her he’s on his mission and you  _know_ she pulled that fucking voice- ‘Oh, why not run and get the preacher then, honey?’-I swear, she needs to join a knitting circle or something.”

 

“Or get laid,” Gerard whispered and Mikey snorted, smiling wide and showing off his sharp teeth. Gerard smiled with him and led the way to the office, “Do you know what she wants?”

 

“No,” Mikey kicked at the ground and dragged his feet, “She doesn’t… She hates me, like I give a shit, not like she would tell me anything anyway.”

 

They walked down the carpeted hallway side by side, framed by the daycare and Sunday School rooms, with walls lined with children’s art depicting the various bible stories. Gerard curled his fists and his stomach growled.

 

“I don’t like her.”

 

Mikey gave him a small look, “You mean you hate her.”

 

“I mean-” Gerard huffed and paused at the end of the hallway. To their left was the West church entrance and the church office, “I don’t like the way she talks about our church, how she talks about you.”

 

Mikey nodded, “I can smell her.”

 

So could Gerard; Miss Macy was all B Positive and an overuse of Chanel No. 5 perfume - her high and mocking voice reverberated through the glass doors of the church office. She was trying to chat with Carrie Brownstein, the church’s secretary, as she sat behind her computer, nodding halfheartedly and typing up unsaid death threats into Microsoft Word.

 

Gerard tugged at his collar and set his jaw, “Okay… let’s see what she wants.”

 

“Can't we just get her blood donation?” Mikey asked, half sarcastic. “Please say yes.”

 

Gerard spun on his heel and stepped quickly into the office, shooting Carrie a smile before turning to Miss Macy, saying: “Good afternoon Miss Macy.” Mikey stalked past him and sat in a vacant rolling chair behind Carrie.

 

Miss Macy smoothed blonde hair behind her ears, smiling poison and candy apples. “Hello, Preacher!” Her jewelry clicked, “I am so sorry to intrude, I heard you were holding confession and I know how that just to take  _hours_ of your time.”

 

Gerard frowned.

 

“Is there anything I could help you with, Miss Macy?”

 

“Oh, well, it’s nothing really,” Miss Macy said, tilting her head in a way that Gerard knew it was definitely something, “Your church has that lovely monthly blood drive-” Mikey’s eyes flicked up, along with Carrie’s, “-And you know how close our two parishes are!” She clapped her hands together and Gerard remembered against his own will.

 

The Church of the Holy Spirit and other things, Miss Macy’s parish, was a mere four blocks away. Gerard had visited once or twice until he realized it was so Sightless it made his ears buzz and his skin itch. Mikey always said it was because it was so Republican, but the people that attended mass there could never look him in the eyes, save for Miss Macy, and least of all comment on the large black umbrella that was always nearby in the daytime.

 

“Yeah, I’m…” Gerard clicked his tongue, “I know.”

 

Mikey pushed up his glasses and smiled.

 

“Well, why not share the program!” Miss Macy’s eye twitched at Mikey’s breath of laughter, “I’ve talked it over with Father Rodgers-” A lie, Gerard reasoned, Father Rodgers was so back-breakingly old that Gerard, who should have been in his sixties, felt like a seventh grader just standing next to him. He was so old that his gospels must have been read from the original texts of Leviticus, and he most likely had had no idea what Miss Macy was talking about, “-And he thinks it’s a wonderful idea!”

 

But Father Rodgers was esteemed, and she most likely dropped his name because it made her look good.

 

“I don’t know, Miss Macy,” Gerard scratched the back of his head, “I mean, it’s getting kinda close… I would have to reorganize it with the nurses, and I don’t know about how the rest of the parish would feel-”

 

“Oh, It will be  _fine!_ ” Miss Macy waved her hands, “Holy Spirit has such nice and… accepting, quiet, people! I am sure they will have no qualms about having a little lunch and giving blood with  _your_ people!” The way she said: ‘people’, made Gerard bristle, knowing she had different words she had wanted to say.

 

Gerard smiled just so she would look away, her Sightlessness telling her to glance at the floor instead of Gerard’s teeth. She flinched, “Well, just think about it okay? And Carrie! It was wonderful catching up! We’ve been missing you at Holy Spirit!”

 

“Oh, I’m sure you’re getting along fine without me!” Carrie smiled tightly.

 

“Oh, yes, we’ve managed…” Miss Macy smiled just as thinly, glancing at Mikey with an unreadable emotion, “But for the life of me, dear, I cannot fathom why you left!” She laughed lightly, not expecting an answer but Carrie gave her one anyway.

 

“Things just change sometimes, Robin,” Carrie said, gazing at Gerard and typing away at her computer.

 

Miss Macy tilted her head, “Well… Have a lovely rest of your day Preacher, Carrie.” She waved out the door to the parking lot, tracing her steps back to her Honda Civic.

 

“God, I wish I could just-” Mikey made a squeezing motion with his fists. “Nothing left but her cheap haircut.”

 

“I try not to despise her too much,” Carrie said, leaning on her palm, “I mean, her parents are the one to blame… But I am always weirdly relieved I got turned whenever I see her… Is that normal? To be glad about something like that?”

 

Gerard shrugged.

 

Mikey stood, his parka rustling, “Whatever, this is so stupid, she can’t just _have_ the blood drive, it makes no sense, that’s  _our_ thing.”  He leaned against the desk, shooting Gerard a look, “Just say no, it’s not like she can do anything else.”

 

“Well obviously,” Gerard crossed his arms over his torso.

 

“I don’t get why she would ask anyway,” Carrie said, “I know from experience how she feels about Our Lady.” Mikey bristled.

 

“Honestly who cares.” He stood and turned to leave, “She’s just some snake it doesn’t even matter.” He brushed past Gerard and left the office before Gerard could protest saying: “I’m taking the hearse out later.”

 

Carrie was silent watching him go and then flashed Gerard a toothy grin, “Teenagers!”

 

“Immortal teenagers,” Gerard shrugged.

 

“You two are a lot alike,” Carrie went back to typing, “I would have said the same thing if you had stormed out.”

 

“I’m not even a teenager,” Gerard rolled his eyes, “We’re three years apart.”

 

“Forever twenty,” Carrie smiled, “Lucky.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

  * ****First pages of a brochure welcoming you to Our Lady of Thorns Sacred Heart Church, San Antonio, Texas****



 

 

 

* * *

The east annex of Our Lady used to be mostly empty, save the garage that held the hearse, and kept Father Schechter’s Station Wagon safe from vandals. At most, it was a dusty pseudo storage closet that kept the extra plastic folding chairs, tables, and party supplies that didn’t fit anywhere else.

 

Originally, it had meant to be used as a break room, but it was dark and dreary. Most church officials had decided the coffee and cakes would be served in the more warm and welcoming church library. In 2001, when Gerard and Mikey had been invited in by Father Schechter, they had been allowed to take residence, clearing it out to reveal the musty kitchenette.

 

It had its own cement entrance, which both Mikey and Gerard had the only keys for, and every spring or fall roses would spring from the dirt around the so-called patio of their own accord. Despite the fact that neither Mikey nor Gerard had any gardening experience between them, they thrived anyway.

 

Gerard in particular used the cement square of a patio the most, sitting outside under a large restaurant umbrella in the daytime to read (the kids from Daycare or Sunday School would sometimes say hello to him, before venturing out to play in the barely kept backyard of the Church) or to do what he was doing now.

 

Sitting in his plastic chair, hands folded, an old book with torn pages and a fading front cover abandoned on his lap, no longer readable in the dark with only the sliver of the moon to guide him. He stared out to the end of the street, to the corner that Mikey always turned down whenever he came back home in the hearse.

 

At two in the morning, when only a few parts of the world existed.

 

Gerard hadn’t even changed out of his black preacher’s uniform, leaving the top button undone and his clerical inside.

 

He sat and he pouted.

 

He had never met the guys that Mikey hung out with, at least not yet anyway. Were they why he wore a parka all the time? To look cool? Or was he just weirdly cold all the time? Why could Mikey just go out and do stuff while Gerard felt like his skin was peeling whenever he got outside the damn parking lot?

 

He huffed sharply.

 

The headlights came around the corner at two thirty and Mikey pulled the hearse into the garage. Gerard stood and folded the page he was on in his book: _The Sound and the Fury._

 

Mikey climbed out of the car and joined Gerard on the patio. His eyes seemed to glow in the dark and Gerard pulled the door key from his pocket, “Hey,” Mikey tilted his head, “You don’t have to wait every single time.”

 

Gerard shrugged and held back his questions, “I’d feel bad if I didn’t.”

 

Mikey shrugged and Gerard found he wasn’t actually opening the door, just standing and holding the key tight between his fingers.

 

“So did you do anything about Miss Macy?”

 

Gerard shrugged back.

 

Mikey looked at the key in Gerard’s pale fingers.

 

“I went up and saw Joe,” He pushed up his glasses, “At the Fuel Stop, he says he could make it down for Offertory.”

 

Joe was a frequent volunteer at Our Lady, and what Gerard might describe as his best and only friend, “That’s great!” He gave a small smile and nodded, finally turning to unlock the door, “You ate while you were out right?”

 

Mikey scoffed and shoved his hands in his pockets, “Yeah…” He looked out to the parking lot as Gerard pushed the door open.

 

“Good,” Gerard looked back at him as he stepped inside feeling choked like they were other things he was supposed to mention.

 

“‘Night,” Mikey’s door shut with a click.

 

Gerard stood in the kitchenette alone. “Sure,” He frowned, suddenly feeling angry.

 

He delivered a homily from Father Schechter’s book as energetically as he could manage, one the parish was familiar with and took to easily. They were kind people, some of whom clapped him on the back and shook his hand when the service was done.

 

He blushed heavily every time, or as heavily as a vampire could blush.

 

The bigger part of the crowd left first, thanking him for the wonderful service before fast-walking to their cars, holding up umbrellas and gossipping with other churchgoers. Gerard watched them all safely reach their cars before turning to go to the library for coffee.

 

The library was a more of a small cafeteria with short shelves filled with long chaptered books about faith and devotion. Gerard hadn’t read any of them and neither had anyone else in the parish, thinking that they were probably filled with cockroaches and mold.

 

Gerard didn’t really enjoy bugs, so he stayed away.

 

“Preacher!” A high and relaxed voice called to him from across the room as he helped pass out coffee, “Come and sit, I have a seat here next to Johnny.” Gerard met eyes with the choir director and his honest-to-god crazy aunt, Ms. Parton. He waved back, smiling, and took the long way to her table to say hello to everyone for the second time. Some parishioners liked to hold his hand and make him blush, telling him their favorite part of the service and after a while, their complements seemed to blur together into one long sentence:

 

“See I was telling Glen--Oh, you know how Father Schechter is so loud sometimes--Willie Nelson! I haven’t seen him in forever, you’d think he’s afraid--I so love your sermons Preacher, the way you speak--Deborah can you believe--You always look so young, like the world hasn’t touched you--”

 

“Alright, alright… thank you so much!” Gerard shook their hands and smiled, “I really am so happy you liked it! I--Yes, I know I can go talk to him?--Brian  _is_ really loud! Gotta get his point across I guess--Oh, I just never go outside--I have to--Thank you!” He untangled himself eventually and huffed into his seat across from Ms. Parton.

 

She smiled wide, her shiny lipstick sparkled, “Piranhas, all of them, but they’re right! You always deliver wonderful services, isn’t that right, Johnny?” She leaned over and patted a stone-faced man on the arm who only nodded, most likely because Ms. Parton spoke enough for two people.

 

He looked up and grunted, his dark eyes free of discernible emotion. When he did speak, it was low and melodic, “I liked it.”

 

Gerard loosened his shoulders, “Thank you, Mr. Cash.”

 

Surprisingly, Mr. Cash gave a minute smile as Ms. Parton asked, “Gerard, where is that brother of yours? I’m sad I didn’t get to see him this morning.”

 

“He was out late, I let him sleep, but he’ll be around for afternoon services,” Gerard shrugged.

 

She nodded, understanding, but Mr. Cash huffed, “Hm,” and Ms. Parton flashed Gerard a look that read:  _What are you gonna do?_

 

“Well you’re talkative today,” Ms. Parton said, sly.

 

Mr. Cash waved his callused hand half-heartedly through the air, “Out all night,” he grumbled, taking a toothpick from nowhere and picking at his doubled edged fangs, continuing: “Kids are always out all night now, neighborhoods getting vandalized, I gotta wake up at dawn to scrape egg off my windows before the sun catches me…” He crossed his arms, his heavy brow casting shadows that made Gerard jealous, “I have a neighbor with two boys, got her garage all dented and she can’t open it, had to take her bike to work and the boys had to walk home from soccer in this heat.” Ms. Parton clucked sympathetically.

 

“I’ve had dinner with them a few times, they’re so sweet,” She shook her head in disdain, “Don’t tell me anyone’s gotten hurt.”

 

“Just some broken windows,” Mr. Cash eyed Gerard, who showed his palms in sympathy.

 

“High schoolers, probably,” Gerard ran through a mental checklist of all things Mikey did in the past few weeks and was glad to find nothing strange, “He tells me he hangs around with a few…”. He waves his hand knowing Ms. Parton and Mr. Cash would understand.

 

“Sightless teenagers,” Ms. Parton soothed, “They usually get caught.”

 

Mr. Cash grumbled, “Sure, sure.”

 

“I’ll ask Mikey about it?” Gerard waved goodbye to a few parishioners.

 

“If you want,” Mr. Cash gestured lazily, “I’ll scare ‘em off if they come around again.” Gerard wondered offhand what he might be implying.

 

“Well!” Ms. Parton gathered a dark umbrella and stood to leave, “It was so nice to see you, Preacher, I’ll be around with the choir, you know,” He stood to shake her hand out of habit and she hugged him tightly around the shoulders, “Come around and play piano for us! And I’ll see you on Thursday for the steak dinner, and of _course,_ I never miss the blood drive!”

 

Gerard thanked her before sitting down again. Mr. Cash sighed and tented his hands over his stomach.

 

“I don’t think it’s any Sightless teenagers,” He said after a long moment of silence.

 

Gerard frowned, “Okay?”

 

“Could be some Fresh-Turned,” Mr. Cash reasoned, “They always think they’re hot shit.”

 

“Mikey wouldn’t be with any Fresh-turned, if that’s what you’re asking,” Gerard tread carefully, “I know that he might cause trouble but Fresh-Turned always annoy him,” he gave a tiny smile, “He’s told me that on multiple occasions.”

 

Mr. Cash didn’t answer, “Their patron is probably some… 17th, 18th century rat,” He shook his head, disappointed, “Think they got it figured out, bring back that  _‘vampires are above all_ ’ rhetoric,” He flashed Gerard a look, “They stole it from their Patrons from the 15th anyway, right when I think they’ve moved on.”

 

Gerard nodded, knowing the story, “And you’re from the 17th?”

 

“16th,” Mr. Cash corrected, “I was there for the negotiation of Association Law, did I tell you that? Or did Dolly?”

 

Gerard shrugged, “You don’t tell me much of anything, sir.” Mr. Cash almost smiled.

 

“Right,” He sat forward, “Some of these 17th and 18th kids are still all high and mighty, like being a vampire makes you somehow better than the rest of this world, above _God_ and Heaven, it’s all stolen from the 15th and 16th back when we attacked families and killed fathers and mothers and babies.”

 

Gerard looked around at the slowly depleting crowd of parishioners, “I don’t really know how bad it was, the Guild covers up a lot of stuff.” Mr. Cash waved his hand dismissively.

 

“These guys thought they were kings, Preacher, killing witches and attacking innocent Lycans, Daemons are  _still_ in hiding, and now I’m worried,” Mr. Cash leaned in to look at Gerard, “And if I’m right… I’m worried their Wards are trying to bring all that back, turning a new generation and brainwashing them, I met a few of their Fresh-Turned in Arkansas, sounded like a couple of rich boys bragging about their daddies.”

 

“Well the Guild doesn’t really look the other way with this type of stuff,” Gerard answered, “And throwing eggs and denting garages? Doesn’t sound like a revolution.” He hoped Mr. Cash would give him the benefit of the doubt.

 

Mr. Cash stared for a minute, then his eyebrow quirked, “I’m old and paranoid, you’re a good kid, your brother too,” He stood, “You mind your business, know when to talk and when to listen, you 19th are good bunch…” He straightened his leather jacket on his shoulders, “The best part is you don’t brag about patrons like they’re real models of perfection… I can’t say I’m not guilty of that.”

 

Gerard nodded and they quietly shook hands, “It was good seeing you sir,” Mr. Cash nodded.

 

“You and your brother stay safe,” Mr. Cash held his gaze, “You and Mikey are good kids, I hope you stay that way.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Joe (the man) Trohman_

_Subject: wassup_

 

_Hey G, I’ll be up in a few days and we can chill._

_Saw Mikey earlier, I can’t believe you let him drive that car._

_Hey! I could help and collect money for offerings_

_for mass, it’ll be fun, and I’ll drag you out of the church._

 

_Jewish person going to Catholic mass,_

_Joe Trohman but you knew that lol_

 

 

  * **_**_Email sent to Gerard Way from Joe Trohman, San Antonio, Texas._**_**



 

 

* * *

 

 

Mikey came around by the time the second service started, yawning behind his hand as he served communion. Gerard wouldn’t berate him for it, afraid it would start some big fight.

 

But Mikey surprised him by apologizing after. “I should have gotten up earlier.”

 

“No it’s fine, you were out all night anyway.”

 

“It was kinda crappy of me anyway.”

 

Gerard suddenly felt very happy, and he nodded to the church custodian, Mike Pedicone, as they traveled down the daycare hallway to their living space. “No one threw up?”

 

Mike shook his head, “Not yet anyway,” he said, smiling, his dark eyes shined.

 

“Do you want to order a pizza?” Mikey asked once they entered their living room.

 

“Sure, I’ll get it.” He watched as Mikey slid down onto the couch, still wearing his parka.

 

Gerard pulled the fridge open, trying to remember the number for Domino’s, and came face to face with a woefully empty fridge, “If you’re going out again tonight, would you mind going to the store? We’re out.”

 

“Out of what?”

 

“All of it.”

 

“Oh,” Mikey pushed up his glasses and searched for the remote, “Yeah okay.”

 

With the remote found, Mikey flipped through their limited number of channels.

 

Gerard grabbed the landline on the kitchen counter and searched through the history to find the number, but hesitated, “Hey… Mikey?”

 

“Huh,” Mikey grunted.

 

“I talked to Mr. Cash today? Said his neighborhood has been getting vandalized… nothing too serious.”

 

Mikey nodded, “I heard yeah.”

 

“I mean it’s nothing too serious, but he’s worried it could escalate.”

 

“It’s just some high schoolers,” Mikey waved his hand in the air, “What are they gonna do that Mr. Cash couldn’t beat?”

 

Domino’s picked up on the other line and Gerard turned away.

 

Then a knock on the door fifteen minutes later.

 

“I got a plain cheese here!”

 

Mikey got up to pay for it, careful of the sun and barely opening the door while Gerard found the movie channel. Then he slammed the door shut, pizza in hand, almost triumphant looking. “I’m so hungry.” He slapped the box down on the coffee table and shrugged his parka off his shoulders.

 

He reminded Gerard of a drenched cat without it, and he smiled to himself.

 

“This is gonna be lunch and dinner,” He said, grabbing a slice. Mikey nodded.

 

He returned to his desk in the church office when the credits rolled on Karate Kid. He didn’t have much work, just emails, and requests for him to visit daycare. When night finally fell, Mikey was gone, and the hearse was taken.

 

Carrie had gone home.

 

Mike was vacuuming the main entrance, twisting the old machine around decorative plants and slowing whenever the carpet crackled from dirt.

 

He caught Mike’s eye as the moon shone through the doors. “Good evening, Preacher.” He said, almost monotone, his wide, dark eyes seemed almost black, and his skin seemed translucent in the bluish light.

 

“Cleaning up, Mike?” Gerard asked, semi-rhetorically.

 

Mike hummed. “You seem distracted, sir.”

 

“Do I?” Gerard smiled briefly until he realized Mike wasn't making a joke. “I'm sorry.”

 

“You don't need to apologize,” Mike stared at him, unblinking as usual, “I've been somewhere else, along with you.”

 

Gerard stuffed his hands in his pockets, “What's been on your mind?” Mike paused to look up at him. “I’m a Preacher, you’re supposed to come to confide in us.”

 

“In our sins maybe,” Mike said, but pulled his belt up and took a step closer, “I just get bad feelings, Preacher, sad ones too, lonely feelings, and I miss out.”

 

Gerard nodded, “I understand, you’re out of place, there aren’t many of your kind around anymore.”

 

“No, it’s…” Mike glanced down at the floor and fingered the collar of his shirt, “I feel as if there is something just around the corner, Preacher.” And before Gerard could respond, Mike returned to his vacuum cleaner.

 

The living space was quiet without Mikey snacking on something, or the tv blasting some show from the eighties, which Mikey had become very invested with only after they had finished, so Gerard turned to the news and changed into something more comfortable.

 

It was barely after midnight when the feeling came.

 

Something light and creeping into the edges of his mind, but so oppressive he might have crumpled to the floor if he hadn’t been sitting, staring at the television. It was barely noticeable, in that it made him crazy, questioning if it was really there or not. He was being choked from the inside, and he curled slightly inward to make up for the sudden shift.

 

He hated when he couldn’t hold in his loneliness.

 

The woman on the television kept speaking of the Summer Fairgrounds.

 

He could barely breathe, except he was breathing perfectly fine.

 

What do Sightless do when they get this sad?

 

There were red tears blossoming beneath his eyes and he wiped them away, trying to lift the weight that settled on his entire body.

 

Do Sightless even get this sad?

 

He didn’t want to cry, and it was easy not to. But if he did, it would come so easily.

 

Blood was so hard to clean out of his clothes, out of the upholstery. He couldn’t hide the stains on his face, not from Mikey anyway.

 

Mikey came home soon after, not even mentioning that Gerad hadn’t been waiting on the porch.

 

“What are you watching?” He asked, taking off his Doc Martens and setting them back by the door. Gerard breathed away the pressure in his chest, “Game shows, I guess,” He croaked.

 

“Huh,” Mikey replied and made his way to his room.

 

Carrie smiled at him that afternoon as she answered emails and Gerard felt only a little better, “How’s it going?” She asked softly as if knowing.

 

“Just hungry,” Gerard lied.

 

“Share my lunch?” She pushed half of her sandwich his way, “It’s not so filling around this time, but next Thursday is just around the corner!”

 

Gerard nodded, “Thanks, Carrie.”

 

He saw Mikey off Wednesday night, and as the moon reached the top of its peak, there was a knock on the door, this time on the door leading into the church.

 

Mike Pedicone stared at him as he opened the door, his janitor’s uniform loose and baggy, in the dim light, he seemed to be floating and Gerard reasoned he probably was. “What is it, Mike?”

 

Mike pulled on the back of his collar, nervous but apathetic thanks to his never-ending stare and dark eyes.

 

“He’s…” Mike squeezed his broom, “Asking for you, in the parking lot, I told him to leave, but he’s…”

 

Gerard turned back to the television, where Danny LaRusso was learning how to paint a fence, then closed the door behind him, “Churches are for sanctuary, Mike, you can let him in.”

 

Mike shook his head, “No, no… He’s brought something with him, it’s like he’s choking me if I get close, it’s… It’s  _disgusting_ ,” Even as he spit the word out as an insult, Gerard could tell he was frightened. “He doesn’t belong in this place, but he stays, just asking for you.”

 

Gerard took a deep breath in, “This is still a place of peace, like Father Schechter says-”

 

“Make him leave,” Mike said, sounding more than just half human, “I can’t even look in his direction without-” He stops rubbing at his back where Gerard knew it had been hollowed out.

 

“Just take me to him, if he’s asking for me, he’s going to get me.”

 

Mike was less than graceful as he turned, leading Gerard down the hallway, his knuckles white clutching his broom.

 

“In the parking lot,” Mike pointed when they reached the main entrance, “Please, make him leave.” In the moonlight, Mike floated above the ground and Gerard turned to look out at the dim car lot. The street lights illuminated the white lines and reflected off the tar and Gerard finally saw what Mike was so afraid of.

 

A boy, obviously taller than Gerard, with wild curly hair that seemed to make a halo around his head. He was shaking or mumbling to himself, Gerard couldn’t tell, and he looked like he was cradling something in his arms. He wore loose clothes, patterned like pajamas, and stood slouched under a lamppost.

 

“He’s just been asking for you,” Mike repeated, “Over and over.”

 

Gerard stepped outside as Mike kept speaking, “Make him leave, please-” The door swung shut.

 

Gerard drew closer.

 

He was muttering, talking to himself, but the words were indistinguishable, carried away with the night air.

 

“Hello?” Gerard asked stopping a few feet away, the boy didn’t look up, but Gerard could see he wasn’t cradling anything, instead, his arm was bound tight in a bright blue cast up the elbow, “Hey, have you been asking about me? Asking for Gerard Way?” At the mention of his name, the boy shook, sucking in a deep and rattling breath saying:

 

“No, no, no no, you- You-”

 

The boy froze and went back to murmuring to himself, just nonsense now that Gerard could hear it.

 

Startled, he looked the boy up and down, seeing his plaid pajama bottoms and college hoodie. In the dim light from the parking lot lamp, he could read the names on the cast- _Zac, Gabby, Vicky, Alex, Troye-_

 

Gerard frowned.

 

“Maybe he’s been cursed,” Mike had appeared behind him and Gerard had to clench to keep from yelling.

 

“His hoodie is from the University,” Gerard pointed, his heart beating rapidly. Mike’s eyes were dark and reflective in the moonlight, “Is that-?” He looked at the boy, “Hey, hey, are you from the university?”

 

More murmuring.

 

Gerard put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “I can’t help you if-”

 

The boy’s eyes opened with a rattling and ragged gasp, his hand snapping up to grab Gerard’s wrist so tight his knuckles were white.

 

His fingernails bit into Gerard’s pale skin, pulling Gerard closer with the strength to rival Gerard’s own, “You can’t- follow- _can’t-”_

 

Gerard panicked, trying to pull away, “Follow-Let me go!”

 

“He’ll-” The boy choked, coughing raggedly, “He-”

 

“I told you,” Mike said blankly, “He’s brought something with him, choking him,  _me.”_

 

Gerard ignored him. The boy’s nails dug harder and harder, “He won’t-” Even with vampiric strength, it was as if the boy had been welded to his wrist, “I can’t-”

 

“Influence him,” Mike whispered, “Make him leave.”

 

“I can’t just  _do_ that-” Gerard winced through gritted teeth, the boy was starting to draw blood, a thick black that used to give Gerard nightmares.

 

The boy had begun to cry, silently shedding tears as he stared at something that simply wasn’t there and Gerard almost couldn’t take it anymore, Mike was terrified, shivering over Gerard’s shoulder and whispering something haunting that echoed over the parking lot and shook Gerard to his core.

 

He bit down hard to stave off the stinging pain and grabbed the boy’s cast with his free hand, squeezing as hard as he could until the boy gasped-

 

 _“Let go of me,”_ Gerard looked him straight in the eye,  _“Go back to your dorm, to your bed,_  now _,_   _do not come back-”_ The boy whimpered, straining, and let go of Gerard’s wrist, choking down uneven gasps of air.

 

_“You can’t-He’ll- you can’t follow-”_

 

“Go.”

 

He released the boy, who gasped and hacked, shivering and trying to form words through his own shaking. Gerard pulled his arms around himself, trying not to shake.

 

“Go back inside,” Mike watched the boy limp away with his dark eyes.

 

“Get his name for me?”

 

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Hey,_

_I’m thinking of staying with_

_my parents for a while? It’s_

_just been getting stuffy in the_

_dorm, they live in town so if you_

_need me just call  :)_

 

 

  * ****A short note from one San Antonio University student to another, San Antonio, Texas.****



 

 

* * *

 

 

“I heard something happened last night?” Mikey placed a small pile of programs into the compartment on the back of a pew.

 

“Oh,” Gerard flipped through a bible, smoothing back bent corners, he hadn’t known Mike had told anyone, “There was a kid in the parking lot.”

 

Mikey blinked, waiting expectantly.

 

“I think he was having a panic attack,” Gerard didn’t want to mention the crying or the now healed marks on his arm where the boy had squeezed.

 

“Huh,” Mikey separated more programs from his stack, “How’d he end up here?”

 

 _He was asking for me,_ Gerard shrugged, “He must have walked, I think he was from the university so I don’t really know.”

 

Mikey frowned.

 

They put away the packets in silence.

 

“I’m going out again tonight,”

 

“Oh, okay,” Gerard dusted off his shirt, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t?”

 

Mikey snorted and Gerard gave him a small smile., “I think Carrie asked for you a few minutes ago,” He shrugged his parka back around his shoulders, “In the office?” He flicked his hand to say goodbye and disappeared into the hallway.

 

Gerard hesitated before turning the corner to the office, worried Carrie had called him down because of Miss Macy, or at least one of her goons.

 

The mass of hair that greeted him was like a breath of fresh air, however, and Carrie smiled over the person’s shoulder to wave him closer.

 

Joe Trohman turned slowly, smiling lazily and reaching out to give him a one-armed hug, “Hey, man,” He squeezed Gerard’s shoulder and Gerard patted him back, “Told you I’d be down!”

 

“Yeah, I saw your email,” Gerard smiled, “Been a busy few days.”

 

“It happens,” Joe waved his hand, “Good to see you, Carrie.”

 

“You too, Joe!” She smiled, “You boys have fun alright?”

 

Gerard thanked her and followed Joe out.

 

“I like the new decorations,” Joe shoved his hands in his pockets, “The ferns are nice, you need more color against the tan.”

 

“I like the tan,” Gerard bumped his shoulder, “It’s churchy,” Joe let out a breath of laughter.

 

“That it is…” He said, “Boring though, blue would really spice it up.”

 

“Maybe if we get a room for baby showers or something we’ll paint it blue.”

 

“The Joseph Trohman baby room,” Joe’s eyes went comically wide and Gerard laughed.

 

“Sure, the Joseph Trohman baby room.”

 

“ _Crybaby_ room,” Joe pointed, “‘Cause that’s what I’d go in there to do.” Joe laughed with him, sarcastic, and then swept out his arm in a wide arc when they entered the church, “And the best room in the house, I never get tired of these windows.” He stared in awe as they made their way up to the front to the tabernacle and Father Schechter’s seat.

 

Joe stepped up onto the small stage to see the paintings of the saints and The Lady of Thorns herself: Mary, Mother of God, draped in the branches of a knotting thorn bush with flames licking at her bare feet and her robes. Her arms were spread wide and her eyes calm, not smiling, but wide and warm. She seemed to be reaching forward, for a hug or to offer her hand Gerard could never decide. But today she simply seemed to be presenting herself, indicating to the flames and the thorns as if she had put them there herself. According to the story, she might have.

 

Her eyes followed them.

 

“Man, she’s awesome,” Joe said, “I always catch something new in this painting every time I see it.”

 

“You should come more often,” Gerard stood back as Joe looked, “I know Mikey would want to see you more,” Gerard looked up at the stained glass windows once more, “I definitely do…” Joe stepped back and looked up with him, “You know I saw them put these in.”

 

“The windows?” Joe pivoted on his foot.

 

“Yeah,” Gerard stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Nineteen… seventy-two? Maybe?” He scratched his head, “Mikey and I lived in a van and I wore… The _worst_ pants.”

 

“I want to see that!” Joe scoffed, “Gerard-navy blue is too bright for me-Way, in bell bottoms.”

 

“No! They were just-” Gerard laughed, “Maybe they were, but not  _too_ big-”

 

“That doesn’t discredit the fact that they existed and you wore them.” Joe hopped down to join Gerard in the aisle. “Hey uh, where is Mikey?”

 

“Maybe the apartment?” Gerard shrugged, “I don’t know.”

 

“He couldn’t go far at this hour,” Joe supplied.

 

“The hearse has tinted windows,” Gerard said, “He has this group he hangs out with… You’ll see him later, maybe.” Gerard hated feeling like that, having no idea where Mikey was, not even able to guess. It was a new feeling too, replacing the easy answer of: “Oh, he’s around,” with: “I don’t know, he never tells me anymore.”

 

Joe gazed calmly at him, “I hope so,” He smoothed a batch of curls away from his face as they spilled into the hallway, “Give the sun an hour? We could go to the Dairy Queen.” Gerard picked at his fingernails.

 

“Okay, sure.”

 

The sun sunk a little lower by the time he grabbed his wide umbrella from the entryway and Joe rubbed his hands together, “I’ve been craving a Blizzard.”

 

The umbrella was a relic, an antique from a forgotten era, made of carved wood and creaking hinges, it opened to a dark, black material that blocked out the sun and almost seemed to emit a cold and looming air. He had bought it out of a teleporting van off the side of a dirt road in Kansas, and the witch in the driver’s seat had given it to him with shaking hands.  _“With this,”_ She had said,  _“The sun will not recognize you.”_

 

He wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but it worked.

 

Mikey called it an Addams Family cousin.

 

Gerard loved it.

 

“Don’t want to open that inside,” Joe snatched it away as quick as a flash, “Follow me out, I’ll get it… What? It’s bad luck.” Gerard rolled his eyes and let Joe open it anyway, standing back as the sun peeked through the open door and twisted to avoid it as Joe handed the umbrella back.

 

“I don’t really believe in that crap,” He told Joe, stepping out onto church grounds. They approached the sidewalk and Gerard squeezed the handle.

 

Being away from Our Lady made him anxious like something was biting at his heels. He’d never felt that way in their old van, but now it was persistent, adding to the list of other unwelcome emotions he was feeling lately. But his anxiety spiked, whispering in his ears and he couldn’t help but glance back as it grew smaller. He half expected the strange kid from earlier to crawl out of the ground, murmuring and digging his nails into Gerard’s skin.

 

He rubbed his wrist subconsciously.

 

“Well it’s cool that you humor me,” Joe broke through his thoughts, “There’s a lot of crap out there, I don’t really want to add more with seven years bad luck… it’s been my thing for forever.”

 

They chatted for a while as Our Lady disappeared around a corner. Mostly it was Joe talking about strange customers at the Stop & Go he worked at and Gerard commenting with small words.

 

“So what, is Mikey hanging with some hooligans?” Joe finally asked, joking around in the line for ice cream. The Dairy Queen was a kiosk type of building with no inside seating, placing orders were done by a window, and all seating was outdoors, staring out into a parking lot or even out into the desert if you wanted to be really bored.

 

“I don’t know if they’re _hooligans_ …” Gerard adjusted his grip on the umbrella, “I’m glad he has more friends though, besides me and you and Carrie.”

 

“You’ve never met them,” Joe said, “How do you know if they’re cool? Yeah, Hi, a Blizzard… Butterfinger? Thank you!”

 

“I’m not our father, Joe, they’re his friends,” Gerard insisted, “I don’t want to be in his business, he needs space, it’s not like it’s a girlfriend or a boyfriend or something- Hello! Same as him, but Reese’s?” Gerard smiled at the cashier and she recognized him, smiling back wide.

 

“Of course, Preacher!” She punched in his order, “I’ll give you half-off, for you and your friend.”

 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that-” Gerard glanced at her nametag, “-Perrie, I couldn’t-”

 

“Thank you so much, Perrie!” Joe interrupted, “Can I add an order of fries or do I need like a burger with that?”

 

“Oh no, it’s fine!” Perrie waved her hand, “I’ll bring it over so you can sit!” Joe thanked her profusely as he dragged Gerard away to an empty table.

 

“I don’t like taking advantage of my parishioners like that…” Gerard looked back at Perrie.

 

“Believe it or not, they’re just being nice ‘cause they like you and you’re their preacher,” Joe leaned on his hand, smiling, “You have to be nice to a priest, no matter what.”

 

Gerard looked down at the table, poking his fingers the grates and flushing red, “I’ve only done like, four sermons.”

 

“ _Way_ more than that, Gee,” Joe tsked, “Perrie must have liked them, and those blood drives must have helped someone she knows anyway.”

 

“That’s right!” Perrie popped into existence behind Gerard, startling him to fix his slouching posture, Joe jumped and placed his hand on his chest, “Sorry!” She laughed, “But your friend is totally right, my brother uh… Got that thing, and he needs those blood drives!” She winked and set their orders down, “He came home all torn up one night and we didn’t know what to do, you guys really helped him back on his feet.” Joe nodded and gestured at her as he chewed his fries. Gerard smiled hesitantly up at her, teeth and all.

 

“I’m glad it worked out then.”

 

“You were there the whole time Preacher,” Perrie said, bashful, “I hung back, it was really… kinda gross to me, at the time… you told him all about… all that stuff, the least I could do is give you half-off on an ice cream.” She held his Blizzard up, “Especially ice cream that defies gravity!” She waved her fingers and held the Blizzard upside down. Gerard and Joe clapped and she waved them off, “Part of the job, boys,” She set it down and curtsied, “Let me know if you need anything else! I’ll leave you to it!”

 

“Nice to meet you!” Joe waved. Gerard looked down at his Blizzard.

 

He squeezed his hands together, thinking about how many people there were, crushing him in between their loud voices and conversation. Leaving no space to breathe except to wish he was home under Our Lady’s high ceilings and stained glass. His grip on his umbrella tightened and the very real fiery death hanging in space above him beat down hotter and hotter.

 

“So, Mikey?”

 

The cloud in Gerard’s head faltered.

 

“What?” He asked, blinking up at Joe, who seemed enamored with his ice cream, “Oh, I don’t know, like I said he has friends and he gets out of the church.”

 

Joe looked at him, holding the red straw in his mouth, “Cool, kinda like you don’t get out at all.”

 

“Thanks,” Gerard stuck his spoon back in his ice cream.

 

“It’s a joke!” Joe smiled, “I’m glad you came, I know it’s hard for you, sorry.”

 

Gerard nodded, “It’s okay.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, but come on, how are you guys?” Joe fiddled with a ketchup packet, “You guys been uh, good? Do any ‘creature of the night’ type stuff?” Gerard screwed up his face.

 

“I don’t think we’ve  _ever_ done stuff like that.”

 

“I don’t know…” Joe ate his fries and continued, “He seems weird, something up?”

 

“Nope,” Gerard shook his head, “Can we walk back?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Joe gathered his food, “I’ll pay and we can walk and talk and eat ice cream.”

 

Gerard tossed the ice cream when Joe turned his back.

 

Seeing Our Lady in the distance helped to loosen the tangled wires in Gerard’s stomach.

 

But seeing a cherry red Honda Civic in the parking lot wound them tighter, Joe pointed at it nonchalantly, “Oh, hey did Carrie get a new-”

 

“No,” Gerard tightened his grip on his umbrella, storming past Joe to the church office so fast Joe had to jog to keep up.

 

He could smell her, Chanel No. 5 and sour B positive.

 

Mike and Carrie stood together, united against a destructive force dressed in pastel, Mike held his broom aloft, tight against his chest as if he could beat back not just monsters, but also real threats: Conservative Catholic women with too much lipstick.

 

Carrie had one hand outstretched, trying not to bare her teeth in frustration.

 

It wasn’t a violent confrontation, or it wasn’t supposed to be, but Miss Macy often held her purse tight and ready to swing, so Gerard wasn’t always sure. She knew she was being kept at bay, and the fact that Mikey stood, bundled in his parka, off to the side, leaning against the wall with an icy stoicism might not have helped.

 

“Now, you’re just a janitor,” Miss Macy said, “So this matter is just a little above your usual tragedies-”

 

“The Preacher is _out_ , Miss Macy,” Carrie half-snarled, “Do I have to say it-”

 

Gerard closed his umbrella with a  _snap_.

 

Mikey straightened.

 

“Can I help you, Miss Macy?” He balanced the umbrella in front of himself like a cane and she turned to face him in a small whirlwind of floral print and purple.

 

“Well!” She smiled, placing a manicured hand on her chest, “I’ve been looking all  _over,_ Preacher!”

 

“He was _out,_ ” Carrie repeated, slamming the door to the office behind her and making her way back to her desk, Mike made himself scarce just as fast, flashing Gerard a small look before he disappeared around the corner.

 

“Well, hello,” Miss Macy gathered herself to smile at Joe, “I don’t believe we’ve met,” She held out a hand to shake, “I’m Miss Macy, parish manager at Holy Spirit, are you a friend of the Preacher?”

 

“Yeah,” Joe shook her hand gingerly as if she would suddenly lash out and her nails would rip him to shreds, “Joe Trohman, I work at a gas station.”

 

“Lovely,” Miss Macy said, implying it wasn’t lovely at all, “Now Preacher, I was hoping to follow up with you on the blood drive? I left a message, perhaps Carrie didn’t deliver it?”

 

Gerard glanced over at Carrie, who had her arms crossed as she stared out the window, believing that Miss Macy had been exactly right for once in her career.

 

“Well Miss Macy, there isn’t much to follow up on I guess,” Gerard looked back at her, Joe coughed and Miss Macy looked as if a salamander had crawled down the back of her dress and she was trying to keep it a secret.

 

“I’m sure-”

 

“The nurses over at the bank establish the schedule,” Gerard interrupted, “They give me their best time and Carrie and I schedule it and I announce it during Mass.”

 

“And have they given you a time?”

 

“They’re thinking about next Saturday,” Gerard hesitated, “But nothing official.”

 

Miss Macy smiled tightly, “Preacher…”

 

“Miss Macy,” Gerard swallowed and briefly met eyes with Mikey.

 

“Now, I want to be civil with you, I am a Christian-”

 

“As am I,” Gerard frowned.

 

“Father Schechter is a wonderful teacher, and I may not agree with many of the things he allows in his church, I wouldn’t exactly bring my children, but it’s a tightly run ship, and I would just  _love_ to extend a hand-” Gerard tensed and Mikey took a few slow steps toward them, his fists clenched, “-I would like to… unite our parishes on a common ground of good and moral giving, should I take this to the Bishop?” She was too close for comfort, her nails pointed at his chest.

 

Gerard blinked rapidly, “I’m sure you-”

 

“I sure could Preacher,” Miss Macy smiled nastily, flashed a look back at Mikey, then breezed past Joe, swinging her plastic white leather purse over her shoulder.

 

“Wow, what an asshole,” Joe paused, “Can I say that in a church?”

 

Mikey swung around, his brow low, and Gerard sucked in a breath, “Mikey-”

 

“Why do you put up with her?” He hissed, “Can’t you just say no?! Straight to her face without freezing for  _once?! Do you even know the shit she says about you?”_ He whipped back around, “You could have her at your mercy with a  _word-”_

 

“Mikey!” Gerard stopped him, angry, but before he could reverse, Mikey was gone around the corner without a trace. Using his speed to send church pamphlets and plastic plants up with the wind.

 

* * *

 

 

_Mikey- Pick up groceries, please?_

 

  * _Milk_
  * _Salsa_
  * _Chips (your choice!)_
  * _Butter_
  * _Bread_
  * _Jelly_
  * _Maybe ice cream? Idk_



 

 

  * ****Note to Mikey Way from Gerard Way, crumpled up and forgotten in the left pocket of a dark green parka, San Antonio, Texas****



 

 

* * *

 

 

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned?”

 

Gerard wiped the tired from his eyes and looked through the grated window at Joe’s blurry form.

 

“Would that not work for me?” He asked, “I mean, Synagogues don’t have confession, we all just have extended periods of reflection and then it’s Hannakuh.”

 

“We all believe in the same God,” Gerard looked down at his folded hands, “Or, we try to, even when They’re changed and interpreted differently.” Joe stayed quiet and Gerard breathed deeply, “About Mikey.”

 

“Yeah,” Joe paused, “Yeah.”

 

“I don’t… actually know, what’s up with him,” He leaned back in his chair, “We’re not fighting, but-” He shook his head, “You know, I felt like we were doing okay, but… It’s like we don’t connect anymore.” Gerard knew he’d been ignoring it, this cloud that had settled between him and his brother, “I don’t know what to do.”

 

Joe nodded or at least looked like he was, through the grate of the confession booth.

 

“I don’t have any siblings…” Joe paused for a second, wrestling with something.   
“I mean, I don’t know… Maybe it just happens, sometimes, and you just have to wait for it to reset.”

 

“What if it gets worse?” Gerard mumbled, looking up slightly, “I don’t know how to talk to him about it, I feel like everything I want to say is going to be wrong, it’ll make it worse, _I’ll_ make it worse.”

 

Joe was silent, then said: “I don’t really know what to say either,” Gerard appreciated his honesty, “I mean, you guys are brothers, and you’re gonna always be brothers… I don’t want things to get worse for you since you’re crazy close, but it’s all been feeling pretty shitty I guess, that’s just what I feel.”

 

Gerard frowned, not sure what he was trying to say, but Joe was like that, trying to put his feelings into words that weren’t always cohesive. Like he was having trouble understanding even himself, constantly forgetting something that would help everything make sense but it was just out of reach.

 

Gerard was thankful for him anyway, he never forced his way into Gerard’s life or pushed his own experiences into Gerard’s problems as an excuse to talk about himself. When they stepped out of confession, Joe gave him a loose hug that Gerard almost fell into, then they headed down the aisle, staying close to the walls and clinging to the columns, looking up at the statues and paintings that lined the church.

 

“How did you find me?” Gerard asked as they reached the large wood doors, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

 

“You’re always in there,” Joe shrugged, gesturing to the confessional. “Even when the church is closed,” Joe flashed him a smile.

 

“I just like it in there, I guess,” Gerard shrugged, slightly embarrassed, “Like… Mikey, he has that parka?” He looked down at his shoes and Joe hummed, “He got that thing last year, for ten bucks and he was just wearing it for winter, and now this year he just wears it all the time.”

 

“You think he’d get hot,” Joe mused.

 

“I really can’t think anything about him anymore,” Gerard looked out at the parking lot, watching waves of heat distort the tar.

 

“We met here,” Joe pointed at the floor and Gerard wondered if he had heard him or if he was just steering away from the conversation, “You had a buzzcut.”

 

Gerard let him steer, “ _God_ , no,” He kicked at the floor and laughed, “I think I tried cutting it myself with a pair of safety scissors the day before… Mikey helped do the back… Christ, it was awful.”

 

“So how are you gonna deal with Miss Macy?” Joe asked after they had calmed down.

 

Gerard was silent for a while, “I really don’t know,” He scratched at the back of his head, “Schechter and I, we used to wait for her to go away, but she’s never done something like this, coming here and talking about the Bishop-” Gerard halted, spying Mike out of the corner of his eye standing at the mouth of a darkened corridor at the other side of the room. “Mike? What’s wrong?” Gerard furrowed his brow and Joe turned to greet him.

 

Mike stepped into the light, “Nothing, I have what you wanted,” He tilted his head, “The name.”

 

“What name?” Joe frowned.

 

“There was a… something weird happened before you showed,” Gerard told him, “Some kid, I thought he was from the college, he was out in the parking lot, talking in his sleep, I sent him away, but he asked for me by name, I’ve never seen him before, I just asked Mike to find out who he is.”

 

“What was he saying?” Joe asked.

 

“Stuff like, ‘Don’t follow him’, but I could barely follow it anyway,” Gerard shook his head and Joe set his lip, looking disturbed.

 

“He’s brought something terrible,” Mike said, “I can still feel it, but his name, Preacher, you were right, he’s from the college, a film student called Raymond Toro.”

 

“Raymond Toro,” Gerard repeated, expecting to feel a shiver go up his spine or a strange sense of foreboding to come from the name, but there was none, “Alright.”

 

“So what now?” Joe asked, “Are you gonna go see him? See what’s up?”

 

“He probably doesn’t even remember what happened,” Gerard said, giving Joe an incredulous look, “I would just freak him out, especially if he was just a Sightless with bad dreams, I’d be dragging him into something that’s not even his business.”

 

Mike crossed his arms, “He asked for you that night, specifically,” Joe quirked an eyebrow.

 

Gerard groaned, “I need to help Ms. Parton with youth choir, there’s the Blood Drive, the steak dinner is coming up, I can’t drag some insomniac college kid and involve him in all this, we don’t even know why he was here, he probably just read my name off our pamphlet.” Gerard turned to Joe, “Are you good to just chill for the rest of the day?” Joe gazed at Gerard, looking like he was struggling deeply with something, but nodded.

 

“I got errands to run anyway,” He moved to step out the door, “I’ll help out with the dinner.”

 

“Thanks, Joe,” Gerard smiled, “Just leave this alone okay?”

 

“Whatever you say,” Joe waved, and Gerard watched him veer across the parking lot before turning to Mike.

 

“Do me a favor?” Mike nodded tersely and Gerard swelled with appreciation, “Ask Carrie to put Raymond Toro on the mailing list, or just his dorm building?” Mike tilted his head, confused.

 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Gerard thanked him and headed down the hallway.

 

Ms. Parton was a spot of light in the bleakness of the day, joking with the choir and smiling at Gerard as he entered. She steered them through new songs and old songs with just as much vigor as she would have directing them ninety years ago, which was when she had been turned.

 

“Houston is months away!” She said, showing Gerard new sheet music, “We gotta shine like stars! Competition or not!”

 

Gerard felt energized playing the piano, letting his mind go blank as he dragged his fingers over the keys and listening to the choir push every verse to perfection. Gerard had a little fun, adding sound effects to Ms. Parton’s jokes and laughing with the kids when she went off on tangents to explain how a note should feel.

 

It was always over too quick.

 

“Why don’t we thank the Preacher for filling in today?” Ms. Parton directed her students to him.

 

“Thank you, Preacher!” A few kids chorused, followed by smaller ‘thank you’s and ‘thanks Preacher's. He smiled and waved.

 

“You guys sounded beautiful,” He smiled, sheepish.

 

Carrie waved at him from the door, awkward.

 

Ms. Parton turned back to give instructions and Gerard found his way over.

 

“Someone here to see you in the office,” Carrie said, “Never seen him at Mass before.”

 

They made their way to the office as Carrie told him about the visitor, recounting the way he had arrived with smoke drifting off his skin and the way his hair had been scorched, “It’s all healed back now I’m sure,” She chided, “But he was in a state, asking for you.”

 

Gerard bit his lower lip, anxious, imagining Raymond Toro in the plastic office chairs.

 

But the boy he saw through the windows was all angles, skinnier than Mikey, and shorter than Raymond, he was bouncing his knee and a large black hoodie had been zipped up to his chin.

 

“Poor kid,” Carrie said, “Looks ready to bounce out of his own skin.”

 

Gerard nodded and entered the office.

 

Almost instantly the boy stood to greet him, blue eyes wide and darting about the room. It seemed like the only thing about him that wasn’t made of edges was his curly hair that stuck up in every direction. His fingers were nervous bundles at his sides and his hand shook when he offered it to Gerard.

 

“Hi,” Gerard smiled calmly, stepping forward to shake his hand, “Gerard Way, Ms. Brownstein says you asked for me?”

 

The boy nodded shakily.

 

“Yeah, um…” He blinked and Gerard almost jumped, recognizing the voice with a start.

 

“Have we spoken before?”

 

The boy reddened, “Yes, I was…” He looked down at his dirty tennis shoes. Gerard tossed Carrie a look and she smiled.

 

“Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

 

“No-no thank you, ma’am,” The boy answered immediately and Gerard thanked her silently.

 

“Why don’t we talk in Father Schechter’s office?” He stepped forward and motioned to the door at the back of the office. The boy hesitated and then nodded nervously, letting Gerard lead him past potted ferns to the door marked with Father Schechter’s name.

 

Gerard closed the door behind them when they entered.

 

Father Schechter’s office was done up with redwood and warm light by the thick red blinds he kept over the windows. It looked straight out of a movie, save for the Rolling Stones merchandise and collector's items framed on the walls. A signed guitar hung over the couch against the wall, proudly displayed after Brian had spent a week bidding on it on eBay.

 

“Take a seat,” Gerard nodded at the couch.

 

“Oh,” The boy sat, his thin frame barely made the couch bounce. “I’m Troye,” Troye looked down at the green carpet and Gerard frowned for a nanosecond, the name sounding familiar.

 

“It’s nice to meet you face to face,” Gerard smiled, “You can call me Gerard.”

 

“Okay…” Troye nodded, awkward, “I just… wanted to talk about…”

 

Gerard blinked, waiting for him to finish.

 

“Yeah,” Troye squeezed his fingers tight and shrugged noncommittally.

 

“Did you walk here?” Gerard asked.

 

“Yeah…” Troye nodded, “I wanted to wait until dark but I don’t think I would have committed.” He flashed a quick smile and Gerard could see thin, needle-sharp teeth catch on his lip.

 

“Well I’m glad you came,” Gerard grinned back, “Lady of Thorns can help you, I meant that, especially since dealer prices have gone up like crazy.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Troye responded, “What the hell is with that… Sorry, Preacher,” Gerard dismissed him with a wave of his hand, “But… People actually help?” Troye knit his brow, “Regular people?”

 

Gerard raised his eyebrow, smiling, “Like Sightless? Yeah, a lot of them just want to help their families, you can come by and see for yourself.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Troye ran a hand through his hair, “Just, you know… Since I told my parents I’m gay…”

 

“Oh,” Gerard leaned forward slightly, “Are they-?”

 

“No! No!” Troye defended, “No they would never, they’re the sweetest people alive, I just… I can’t just tell them that and then tell them I’m… My dad even got me a flag,” Troye smiled fondly.

 

“So why do you think you can’t tell them about this?” Gerard ventured, already sort of knowing the answer.

 

“Because it’s completely different!” Troye said, “It’s not a sexuality! It’s…  _vampirism_ … Like in that movie Lost Boys. Blood and stuff, I-” He halted and stared at his hands.

 

“When were you turned?” Gerard asked after a moment of silence.

 

Troye wrung his hands, “Maybe… around February, or March… I can barely remember anything except what I was doing before… Moving into my dorm-”

 

“You don’t live with your parents?”

 

“I got into SAU early, but I moved back because they’re so close, and my roommate talks in his sleep, that was…” His head shot up, “I don’t remember  _anything_ like there’s a hole in my brain…”

 

“It happens like that sometimes,” Gerard nodded sympathetically, “That’s how it was for me and my brother, sometimes bits and pieces can come back to you.”

 

He could try and put together the disjointed memories that had come back over the years, the pain he could remember clearly like someone had torn apart his head with a steak knife. He remembered standing in the kitchen of their old house, Mikey had been screaming. But after four decades, that had been all he could scrape together, Mikey even less so.

 

“I woke up… in this room,” Troye was saying, “And then again behind this dive bar, I just… walked back to my dorm and my parents had been calling and no one could find me and-” He choked on his words and Gerard finished for him.

 

“And you were hungry.”

 

Troye sniffed, nodding, tears that were red like blood traced their way down his cheeks, “Sorry, I don’t-”

 

“Don’t be,” Gerard shook his head, “You did all that-went through that  _alone_ , Troye I’m  _so sorry_ -”

 

Troye stood fast, “I want to go home, I can’t-” He rushed out of the room, past Gerard’s protests and Carrie in the office.

 

“Troye!” She dodged as he fled out the door, his hoodie up to combat the sun, “I just- What happened?”

 

“I tried,” Gerard showed his palms, “He’s… He’s been all alone.”

 

Carrie looked like she was about to go after him, “Does he know about the Dinner on Thursday?”

 

“I hope so,” Gerard could smell the blood from Troye’s tears, “He won’t be able to afford the new prices the dealers have been pushing.”

 

“Nobody can anymore,” Carrie set the coffee down, bitter, “Only ‘cause it’s harder for them to get to it, but it’s not right to ask for New York City prices in San Antonio, might as well get to In-n-Out and ask to lick the juice from the meat…” She put her hands on her hips and Gerard almost thought she looked like his mother from forever ago, stern expression and annoyance when he did something that she thought was radical, “More of the girls in my Book Club have been asking about Our Lady, even Corin Tucker, you know her? Girl only trusts hospital bags,” Gerard went to lean on the front desk as she leaned to gather a few papers off her desk, “Matthew is her dealer, I’ve never met him, but she’s telling me his prices are up in the eighties, and she has a son to take care of…” She tsked with annoyance.

 

“How is he?” Gerard asked, remembering Corin’s son at the back of his mind, only hearing about him through Carrie, “He’s the one that won’t take anything but AB right?”

 

“That’s him,” Carrie smiled in spite of herself, “Little devil, honestly, Corin loves him more than B Negative, I mean she’s wanted a kid since forever and she thought she was done for when she got turned-that was back in the seventies, you know-” Gerard sighed, glad she wasn’t frowning like Donna Way anymore, “-So Janet just gets the idea to finally tell her being a vampire doesn’t make her  _sterile_ , so she met the sweetest guy and went absolutely crazy!” She laughs, peeling open a bag of pretzels, “Took us the longest time to convince her she wouldn’t turn into a monster on this little thing, she’s so self-conscious about that, used to call herself a monster all through the eighties-”

 

“Carrie,” Gerard smiled wide, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Carrie gasped and pulled a picture from the display of her computer and handed it to him, “He’s the sweetest thing, has his daddy’s eyes and his teeth are already coming in.”

 

Gerard looked down at the slightly blurry picture, where a small boy smiled gummy at the camera, and Gerard could see his canines already coming in sharp, he nodded, “Cute.” He meant it.

 

Carrie swooned, “Oh, I know...I completely forgot!” She snatched the picture back and typed quick, “I’m sorry, I’ve been speaking with the nurses, they say Saturday is perfect.” Gerard blinked in surprise.

 

“That’s perfect,” He shrugged, “I mean, it’s better than rescheduling four times.”

 

“Definitely,” Carrie agreed, packing her things into a purse, “They might be a little late, but we’re used to it.”

 

“Yeah, are you heading out?”

 

“I got a few things I need to do… Is that okay? What Troye said, should I-”

 

“No way, I can…” He hesitated, realizing there wasn’t much he  _could_ do. Troye had been out the door so fast and Gerard still didn’t know what there was that he could have said to make him stay for just a few seconds longer. He might have made things worse if past evidence was anything to go on.

 

Carrie was silent now, putting her bag around her shoulder and looking up at him sympathetically. “It’ll be fine, we’ll figure this out.”

 

“Maybe,” Gerard said, sobered, “I’m sure as hell not doing that with anything else.”

 

She smiled softly, almost like she was reading his mind she said: “You’ll figure out Mikey too.”

 

Then he was alone.

 

The chapel was quiet, and the day fell fast without Carrie or Youth Choir and Gerard found himself wandering aimlessly through the halls of Our Lady.

 

Then he realized he was really looking for Mikey, stepping in and out of rooms and pausing for a minute to look around before leaving disappointed.

 

He was lonely, a fact that annoyed him greatly.

 

He hesitated to order a pizza, hand hovering over the cordless phone in the office, wondering if that would bring Mikey out of hiding. Or maybe he was already gone, out with his friends. Was he having fun tipping dumpsters? Or throwing eggs-?

 

Gerard decided he wouldn’t set a trap for his brother, knowing it wasn’t the Holiest thing to be doing.

 

Maybe he was in his bedroom.

 

Hopefully.

 

Their living space was darkened, the blinds in their permanent closed position over the windows, but there were drawers open and stale Cheerios were spilled over the counter.

 

Gerard knocked on the door at the end of the hall, the one with a Smashing Pumpkins poster taped on at the top. The handle wouldn’t turn when Gerard grabbed it, so he knocked softly, directing his voice at the crack in the door, “Mikey?”

 

There was a shift from inside and honestly, Gerard felt that that was almost enough, feeling his lungs loosen.

 

“I could order something? Pizza, or Chinese?”

 

Silence.

 

“There might be a movie on.”

 

More silenced and then a muffled: “I’m not really hungry.”

 

Gerard felt frustrated, if only for a second, “Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah,” A louder response, “Yeah, G, I’m fine.”

 

Gerard closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the Smashing Pumpkins poster. He could probably just break the door down, he was strong enough, but what was the point?

 

Who would that serve except the weirdness that had been separating them?

 

Gerard really hated Mikey for a second, just a burning flash of pure and utter hatred that pulsed through his entire body and curled his fists. He hated Mikey, and his stupid friends, and the fact that he could step foot outside of Our Lady without his spine crawling with panic.

 

Then it was gone and Gerard changed into his pajamas and he remembered that he was a preacher and that hatred was never the answer under God… Or at least not in these types of situations.

 

ABC News welcomed him to the world of late night television.

 

 _“The Sheriffs Department of Illinois has made very few leads in the disappearance of Chicago teen, Patrick Stump, and have reportedly begun discussing the possibilities of a kidnapping, no suspects have been named yet, and they still say a runaway is the most likely answer.”_ Gerard hummed and his stomach growled,  _“If you or anyone you know has any information regarding Patrick’s whereabouts, the Sheriff's office has offered a number and email address you can use to contact them made available on our website, and the number you see on screen…And tonight… More updates on…”_

 

Gerard changed the channel.

 

Poor kid was probably dead by now.

 

Or, and Gerard hoped not, he’d been turned or something. Which happened sometimes, a Patron with no idea how to fix their mistake just took their Ward on the run.

 

Gerard really hoped not.

 

When he woke up, the TV was blaring a commercial for foot pain. Gerard wiped the drool from his mouth and the words blurred together, the VCR clock blinked over and over: _12:00, 12:00, 12:00_.

 

He checked his wrist even though he’d never worn a watch a day in his life.

 

It was dark, probably only an hour after he had drifted off, and some campy horror movie was on, barely realistic and only slightly offensive to actual ghosts.

 

The universe seemed like it was on pause.

 

A harsh wind hit the side of the church and the foundation creaked, settling on its frame and Gerard tugged a soft blanket around his shoulders, staring blurry eyed at the screaming teenagers on television.

 

A _boom!_ from outside shook the ground and the sky was filled with false daylight, Gerard flinched, scrambling wildly in fear, suddenly, very much awake.

 

“Electric Storm,” He muttered, trying to keep his wits about him until another  _boom!_ rattled the windows and made him squeeze the remote tight

 

Something tapped at the door.

 

_Boom!_

 

The TV froze with static, the audio bled into the choppy clips and the white noise. “Come on,” Gerard groaned in spite of himself and froze when the tapping continued.

 

The door to the outside was metal, barely keeping the cold at bay through the crack at the bottom, and when it slammed, it was  _loud_. But the tapping was so grating that Gerard wanted to claws out his ears.

 

The kids on TV were arguing with clipped voices and garbled speech: “ _What- There’s no- He’s-”_

 

“Fuck off,” Gerard finally switched it off and was plunged into darkness, “I swear to God…”

 

He stood with his hand poised over the door handle.

 

Then held his breath and whipped it open, letting in the sudden downpour and false daylight and standing on their tiny porch was-

 

Raymond Toro.

 

Wearing those same pajamas, his arms wrapped in a sling this time. His nose was bleeding.

 

Lightning flashed.

 

“ _Gerard Way._ ”

 

His voice was clear and concise over the screaming wind.

 

Gerard could smell Type O.

 

“Ray…” He began and Ray Toro stumbled.

 

“You can’t-” He said, reaching out for Gerard and tipping forward, “It’s not-” He fainted, falling into Gerard who tried to balance him, only succeeding in setting him down on the carpet, dripping blood on his pants and the floor. Mikey would-

 

“Who’s that?”

 

-Smell it from his room.

 

“Ray Toro,” Gerard answered automatically, “Help me-” Gerard pulled him into the room, “Close the door.”

 

Mikey was there in an instant, shutting the door and helping the unconscious Ray Toro to the couch. His head lolled to the side and spilled blood on the cushions.

 

“Hell of a nosebleed,” Mikey said, groggy, “I thought you were opening a bag without me.” Gerard almost chuckled.

 

“Never…” The smell made him blink, “Type O.”

 

Mikey rubbed at his eyes, somehow smiling, “Dare you to suck it out of the couch,” Gerard sometimes liked tired Mikey more than awake Mikey, laughing despite there being an unconscious college student on their couch.

 

“Lick it off the floor for ten bucks.”

 

Mikey shook his head, “Twenty?”

 

“Fifteen.”

 

“Deal.”

 

Gerard wondered if it was because they were exhausted that they were suddenly back to where they used to be. When Mikey was licking blood off his fingers and Gerard’s wallet was fifteen dollars lighter, they felt normal again.

 

Gerard gave himself a note to say a blessing over Ray Toro when he woke up.  

 

His blood was staining the couch and Gerard asked Mikey if it was good.

 

“Type O is usually too sweet for me, but yeah,” Mikey shrugged, “It was really good.”

 

They sat in silence.

 

“Was this the kid from the parking lot?” Mikey asked.

 

Gerard frowned, “How-?”

“I was eavesdropping,” Mikey tilted his head.

 

“Oh,” Gerard wasn’t too bothered, “Yeah, he was, he was saying all this weird shit… I Influenced him to get him to go home.”

 

A few Cheerios spilled out of Mikey’s mouth, “You _Influenced_ him?” He pushed up his glasses, “Why didn’t you tell me? I still can’t figure out how to do it.”

 

“Well, you’ve been… gone, lately,” Gerard glanced at him and pushed his thumbs into his palms, “I don’t like doing it anyway…” Mikey was silent, but nodded and pushed his glasses again. His mousy hair had been tamed under a gray winter hat and his parka was tossed to the side, slung over a chair on the other side of the room, “I feel like… Like I’m taking something away from them.”

 

Mikey’s knee bounced, “Um… G?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“About that thing, earlier?”

 

Gerard nodded, going through a list of things Mikey could have been referring to.

 

“I mean it was… It was dumb, I don’t mean… Everything’s weird, I guess I just-”

 

Ray Toro gasped back to awareness and Gerard made a note to himself to curse the very ground he walked on. He coughed, rasping and scratchy coughs that rattled his lungs and spurred Gerard to his side, “Hey! Hey!”

 

“Fuck!” Ray Toro wheezed, “What the fuck-” He sat up, feeling his nose, “What-!” He was panicking, pushing away from Gerard.

 

“Hey, chill out,” Mikey grabbed his shoulder and Ray Toro convulsed.

 

“Where-Who the fuck-” He hyperventilated and ripped himself away from the brothers, almost jumping behind the couch, “Where- Where am I? Who are you-”

 

Gerard showed his palms, “Hey! You’re fine, it’s fine, I’m Gerard remember? You asked about me-”

 

“Why the  _hell_ would I-” Ray Toro coughed, “I don’t even-Where am I?!”

 

“Our Lady of Thorns,” Mikey supplied, monotone, “Sacred Heart Church.”

 

“What-?” Raymond blinked, “I-  _What-_?”

 

“You showed up a few days ago,” Gerard told him, “Don’t you remember?”

 

“I’ve been-?” He wiped his nose again, “I don’t- Why am I bleeding?”

 

“You’re just as confused as I am okay?” Gerard held up his palms, “Just take some deep breaths, we can talk, we’ll get tissues, and something to eat-”

 

“Stay away from me!” Raymond shuffled away, “How do I know if you’re- you could have kidnapped me-!”

 

“Why would a Preacher kidnap a college boy?” Mikey asked and Raymond flinched away.

 

“What?”

 

“A Preacher,” Mikey repeated, “Why would a  _preacher_ kidnap you?”

 

Raymond was frozen.

 

“We have… Cookies! In the library,” Gerard offered, “They might be a bit stale.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Ray? Honey? Hi! It’s your mama…_

_Listen, honey, I haven’t heard from you_

_in forever! I want to talk to my boy! Ray…_

_I’m sure you’re just tired and have so_

_many classes but I just want to hear your_

_voice baby, your last call… Listen, baby,_

_your last call scared me, honey, are you_

_okay? The college hasn’t called me with_

_anything but I’m your mama… You weren’t_

_making sense… I know you don’t- You wouldn’t_

_try any drugs or… Just call me back okay, baby?_

_If you need any money or anything, I just want_

_you to be careful… This is mom, call me, bye._

 

 

  * ****Phone call to Raymond Toro, 19, San Antonio, Texas.****



 

 

* * *

 

 

Raymond’s nosebleed had subsided, leaving a copper taste in the air that floated past Gerard and made Mikey tap his fingers on the counter.

 

He introduced himself as Ray Toro, instead of Raymond.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I swear,” He told them, “I don’t remember ever going anywhere that night… I just keep waking up with headaches, or my throat hurts, I thought I was getting sick, or maybe I had an STI or something but I don’t… Sorry, preacher… Or I’m just going crazy, sleepwalking.”

 

Gerard shook his head, “You’re not going crazy, I’m sure of it.” He shook his head as Mikey stuffed his face with stale cookies, trying to ignore the copper, “Bad dreams can arise from stress, or just bad food,” He smiled and Ray’s sightlessness made him look away, eyes wide. “You are in college, yeah?” Ray nodded.

 

Ray Toro picked at his cast, “I was getting newsletters from here… That’s why I, um, stayed, I don’t even remember signing up for the letter, maybe it was a mistake, or why I’m sleepwalking here?”

 

“Our brains are weird like that,” Gerard compressed the wince that came, thinking of telling Mike to add him to the mailing list, “I know Mikey eats in his sleep.” He left out the part about the sleep snacks included sneaking down to the kitchens to the blood fridge.

 

Mikey groaned, “I’m going to bed, hope you figure out your thing,” He threw his parka over his shoulders, “I think Mike is getting in soon.”

 

He left and Ray Toro rubbed his unbroken arm and Gerard read the names on his cast again.

 

“What’s the difference between a priest and a preacher?” He asked.

 

“I’m sort of an assistant,” Gerard answered, still going over the sharpie names, “But I don’t make coffee.”

 

_Gabby, Alex, Zack, Troye-_

 

“You said I was talking in my sleep?” Ray Toro asked, “What was I saying?”

 

“Sorry, your cast,” Gerard pointed, “You know Troye?”

 

“Wha-Oh, yeah, he was my roommate before he started staying with his parents,” He suddenly seemed nervous, “He was acting weird, I hope he- Hey, how do you know him?”

 

Gerard startled, “He’s been attending Mass-” Mike was the one who saved him, unfortunately.

 

“There’s a cab, outside,” His face was dark as he stood in the doorway, “Already paid, to take you back to your dorm.”

 

Ray Toro’s mouth hung slightly agape and Gerard gripped the armrests of his chair with white knuckles. Mike seemed to be barely keeping his feet on the ground. “Mike, that’s-”

 

Ray Toro scrambled to his feet, seemingly not fast enough and his chair fell backward behind him, clattering on the thin carpet, “That’s-that’s great, thank you, thanks-” He looked to Gerard, who had started to protest his leaving, “Thank you-for the cookies I mean-” He brushed past Mike, who didn’t move from the threshold, and squeezed inward to avoid touching him.

 

Gerard was on his feet fast, “Mike-”

 

“I told you, preacher, and you- He’s  _brought_ something dark to this place-Like  _death_ -” Mike stepped to him, trying to tower and Gerard met him, suddenly angry, “And you let him  _in_.”

 

“He fainted on our doorstep,  _sleepwalking_ , Mike, it was  _not_ your place to-”

 

“A  _Sightless_ -” Mike hissed, “-Priests and Preachers and your  _lost sheep_ -it doesn’t matter-” Mike’s face was twisted in anger, “-  _Vampires,_ you’re just as blind as Sightless- or is it the smell of blood I caught down the hallway-?” He coughed when Gerard pulled him by the collar, fists around the rough material of his janitors uniform. The hissing came on instinct, baring his teeth. Mike struggled, regret etched on his face.

 

“Preacher-”

 

“Do you have  _any_ common sense?” There was heat in Gerard’s voice, “Or did the fae that hollowed out your back take that too?” Mike’s feet left the ground, an attempt to get away but Gerard held tight, “Think! Why would he come here? Why would  _nightmares take him here? A curse? Or a fresh-turned tried to create an Obedience-”_

 

“I can’t be controlled-” Mike tried to appear calm, “Influence won’t work-”

 

“I’m not trying to  _Influence you,”_ Gerard pulled him back to the ground, “You accuse me, my brother,  _any of us,_ on staff, of ever taking advantage of-of those who seek  _help_ \- This is a  _church_ , Mike, not a  _nest_ -”

 

“I can see it, preacher,  _something- eating_ away at this place, at you, your brother- it’s  _already started-”_ Mike grabbed Gerard’s collar in turn, “I was given a gift when the Unseelie turned me into-into  _this-”_ He choked and tried not to look at Gerard’s teeth, “Terrible things are coming- I can see them, stealing from you something  _precious_ , and there is no other way except down,  _Gerard Way.”_

 

Gerard pushed the Changeling away, slamming him into the wall opposite, and he was gone without another word.

 

Mike was gone the next day, and Gerard wondered if he would ever come back.

 

His words haunted him, the only way they could go anymore was down, something was eating away at him, the church.

 

Mikey regarded him in silence.

 

Gerard could believe it.

 

Mikey seemed angry again, at something, or someone, probably Gerard. As if Mike’s sudden departure had driven them apart again. Gerard hissed in frustration, maybe he had said something? Or done something wrong?

 

Something must have happened, and Gerard had no idea what he could do anymore.

 

Joe finally came by again, like a breath of fresh air that kept complaining about needing a haircut. He listened with rapt attention to Gerard’s story of Ray Toro as they printed newsletters, and patted his back when he griped about Mike’s insult and Mikey’s distance. “I can't believe I missed Mike flying… I mean it's more floating than flying, but still… and what you said about Ray? You're right.”

 

Gerard looked up at him, raising his eyebrows expectantly, “What part?”

 

“He needs help, supernatural help, I mean. Walking all the way from campus to some church he's never even heard of?  Nosebleeds? Not normal stressed college student stuff, especially since he was asking for you,” Joe shrugged, “Maybe he's psychic, or something.”

 

Gerard hummed his thanks, but paused, hand hovering over a pile of envelopes, “Joe?”

 

“Hm?” Joe leaned back in his chair, trying to conceal the fact he had just whipped his feet off the desk in front of him, Gerard smiled briefly.

 

“When did you lose your Sightlessness?” He frowned, “Or how?” Gerard could remember his eyes burn as he had been turned, forced away unnaturally as teeth tore his neck open.

 

Gerard frowned tighter.

 

“I guess…” Joe was silent for several long minutes, “I don't really know, my memory is awful, I just had it and then… I feel like I’ve never been Sightless.” Joe looked down at the floor, “I guess.”

 

“Oh,” Gerard sat in the chair next to his, “I mean, I lost it when I was turned, so I don’t know what it would feel like to just lose it naturally-”

 

“I mean it’s not personal,” Joe backtracked, “I just can’t, uh,” He rested his elbows on the table, “Fuck, I don’t know, I could never remember.”

 

Gerard nodded, “Probably in some dumb way, like you walked in on a ghost watching youtube videos, or some vampire picking at their teeth.” Joe bent to rest his chin on the table, humming his agreement then sat back up.

 

“I think I’m gonna head out…”

 

“Oh, what? Really?” Gerard watched him stand, “Is it because-?”

 

“No it’s cool, we’re almost done anyway, I just have a headache,” He gave Gerard an awkward smile as he left, straightening his shirt. Gerard only gave him a small wave goodbye in return.

 

Carrie called in to explain why she had never shown up for work that day.

 

“I was asked to babysit! I hope you didn’t have a bad day,” Her regret could be heard over the phone, “I hate leaving you boys all alone in that church, all those high ceilings, I should have called earlier…”

 

“Joe stopped by, and Ms. Parton is always holed up in her office, you’re fine, Lady of Thorns is our home…” Gerard paused, “I haven’t really seen Mikey all that much.”

 

Carrie tsked, “I’ll be in tomorrow, and we still have… Oh! Steak dinner is in a few days, I can’t wait to see everybody again.”

 

“Everybody’s pretty excited,” Gerard smiled, then remembered what he’d been meaning to ask her, “Have you heard from Mike at all? He was supposed to come in again today.”

 

“God no, we barely ever talk… and from what you told me he said… jackass,” She answered, miffed, “We’ll call him if he doesn’t show up soon.”

 

“Okay,” Gerard sighed, watching Mikey walk past the office, bundled up in his parka, “Can I ask you for some advice?”

 

“About Mikey?”

 

“Uh, yeah.”

 

“Of course, sweetie,” Carrie’s voice grew soft.

 

Gerard turned the chair away from the window, “I can’t… talk to him anymore, and he won’t talk to me, and I thought we had a good night when Ray Toro collapsed and stuff, but it hasn’t gotten any better.”

 

Carrie was quiet.

 

“Carrie?”

 

“Yeah, I’m thinking… Why not just break the ice?” She shifted her grip on the phone, “You’ve been together for so long, just do something together, watch a movie, go to Target… I know you two have the  _emptiest_ fridge in Texas.” Gerard snorted.

 

“Yeah,” His stomach growled in agreement and he tried to imagine them shopping together, him in his collar and Mikey with his parka, and  _that_ haircut, arguing over what kind of chips to buy.

 

“Just be normal, try to get on the same page again, you’re just disconnected, it’s not broken...and I know he loves you, and you love him,” She yawned, long and loud, “Just figure out… where you can connect again.”

 

“Yeah that makes sense, are you okay?” He giggled at her yawn.

 

“Tired!” She exclaimed, “I live close to the cemetery.”

 

“What?” Gerard asked, “What do you mean?”

 

“Oh, I should go, I hear banging from the kitchen,” Carrie smiled through the phone, “Have a wonderful night!”

 

“Wha-Good night Carrie!” She hung up and Gerard felt like he was spinning.

 

Dateline NBC blared from the small TV as Gerard entered their living space, and Mikey seemed anxious as he leaned against the kitchen counter to watch and Stone Phillip’s soft voice told tales of true crime and murder. Gerard had already seen the episode.

 

“What’s up?” He asked, standing by the door, awkward.

 

“This guy’s wife tied him up and left him in a closet,” Mikey mumbled.

 

“Yeah, I’ve seen it,” Gerard wrung his hands, “You want to watch a movie or something?”

 

Mikey shifted to look at him, then looked back at Dateline, “I was um… I was gonna meet some friends.”

 

“Oh, that’s okay,” Gerard tugged at his clerical collar, prepared to retreat to his bedroom.

 

“What kind of movie?”

 

Gerard took it as a win.

 

“Well if you’re meeting your friends-”

 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Mikey seemed to wince, “Let’s watch Ghostbusters or something,” He made his way to the couch, “I don’t have to show, they’ll be chill.”

 

“Cool,” Gerard tried to make his smile less excited, “I’ll set it up, let me take this collar off.”

 

He returned and set up the VHS as Mikey fiddled with the remote, “What do you guys usually do if you went out?”

Mikey messed with the zipper on his parka, “Um...walk around and stuff,” He shrugged and Gerard thought the conversation was done.

 

They sat in empty silence until Mikey took in a breath, “Vinny likes, to uh, set trash on fire,” He nodded and Gerard furrowed his brow.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah… and um, Ricky has a pretty sweet car, cooler than the hearse I guess, and we just kinda hang out.”

 

“And they’re… These guys, are they from the high school?” Gerard pushed the button on the VCR.

 

“No, we don’t really go by there, all those guys are Fresh-Turned assholes,” Mikey crossed his arms and scooted over to make room for Gerard, “I mean I think Ricky is, the rest of them were turned a few months or years ago.”

 

“I’m glad you found some friends, I mean,” Gerard shrugged, “People to hang out with that aren’t just me, or Joe.” Mikey hummed as the movie started, but paused it to switch the subtitles on and the language to Spanish.

 

“It’s like a whole other movie,” He said, smiling.

 

“Oh, sure,” Gerard chuckled, “Yeah, I love uh…  _Los Cazafantasmas,”_ He laughed harder when Mikey smacked him.

 

Halfway through a rapid conversation about Spanish Twinkies, Mikey asked: “Did we see this in theaters? Or did we see Gremlins?”

 

“Both I think,” Gerard looked sideways, “We saw Back to the Future too.”

 

“And Star Wars,” Mikey exclaimed, “That shit was so cool in theaters.”

 

“I think we've seen every awesome movie in theaters, “ Gerard nodded, “The Exorcist… The Shining.”

 

“That was my favorite,” Mikey said, and they were silent again.

 

Near the end, Mikey sucked in a breath and wrung his hands, “I think I'm the oldest...of the group.”

 

Gerard let him think.

 

“We’re from the sixties, Ryan is the second oldest and he was turned in ‘95… and they'll call me old but I don't feel like it, have you ever thought about that?”

 

Gerard blinked and looked down at his hands then blinked again, “I think about...How I should be dead by now, and I'm not.”

 

Mikey took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, “I should be in my sixties, not look seventeen.” Gerard felt choked and Mikey pulled at a section of his parka. “Is it normal? To ask why am I not  _dead yet?”_

 

Gerard screwed up his face when the question seemed to stab him in the gut.

 

“Is it a vampire thing at least?” Mikey asked, quiet, “Like when you were stabbed and you were fine? I  _know_ why we’re not dead,  _so why do I have to ask?”_

 

“I…” Gerard’s voice clipped, “I don’t- I know it’s not just a vampire thing,” He tried not to appear as distraught as he felt, staring at Mikey in the darkened living room as _Cazafantasmas_ played on mute. “I ask… myself, that, Mikey, it’s not just a vampire thing it’s Sightless, and a Hunter thing, it doesn’t…” He swallowed when Mikey’s strange expression didn’t change, “I was asking it even before we became immortal.”

 

Mikey went quiet for a long time, gazing softly at the TV before saying: “Sorry.”

 

“No,” Gerard shook his head, “Don’t… you don’t have to be sorry about asking me stuff like that, you’re… you’re my brother.” He wanted to say more, about how they had been walking on glass around each other.

 

There was a knock on the door.

 

They both froze.

 

Another knock.

 

“Answer it!” Mikey barked, snapping from his gray mood to something more set and before he could snap again Gerard was at the door.

 

A soft laugh met him when he opened the door halfway, shielding the rest of the apartment with his body.

 

“Do I, uh…” The boy had cropped hair and large gauges in his ears, and seemed to answer everything with a short laugh, “Do I got the wrong place?” Gerard squinted.

 

“Hey,” Mikey said, frowning as he got to stand up behind him.

 

“Were you looking for the church?”

 

“I mean um…” the boy shifted, his smile crooked, “Is this the wrong place?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and Gerard thought he must have been a senior in high school with his loose jeans and lazy slouch, “Or- Oh, shit, um, are you the brother?”

 

Mikey pushed to the front and Gerard stepped back, “Balz?”

 

“Mikey!” The newly-minted ‘Balz’ laughed, “Shit, this is your brother? Fuck,  _he_ looks like a vampire, dude, the hair and shit?”

 

“What?” Gerard sneered.

 

“Balz, what are you-?” Mikey shifted, closing the door slightly, “What are you doing here?”

 

Balz was quiet for a second, shifting from foot to foot and pulling his lips back in a lazy grin that showed off long, curving teeth.

 

“You didn’t show,” He shrugged, flicking his eyes to Gerard and back to Mikey, “Had to see what was up… Chris was all torn up.”

 

“Why would  _Chris_ , be all torn up?” Mikey hissed the name.

 

Balz shrugged, “You know Chris...He gets all disappointed and shit.”

 

Mikey was stone-faced, “I’ve flaked before, Chris doesn’t care, and he didn’t show up at my place.”

 

Balz took a small step back, going quiet again, “Man, it’s fucking…” He kicked the ground, “Chris is a fucking psychopath man, he does weird shit… You know how he is with like, thresholds and stuff.”

 

“So what?” Mikey seemed to be getting angry, and Gerard was worried they would fight as Mikey’s knuckles went white around the door handle. “You can’t invite him in yourselves? He needs me to do it?”

 

“Shit, Chris blacked out again, man,” Balz scratched the back of his head and Mikey deflated, “You know what he’s like, just this time he went too long… There was this raccoon, he... killed it, but we can’t get him back down.”

 

Mikey snapped his mouth shut, “ _Lead_ with that, Balz, Jesus,” He shoved his parka tighter around his shoulders, “G, I gotta go and help-”

 

“If he’s blacked out I can help,” Gerard offered softly and Mikey shook his head.

 

“It’s fine, I’ll be back later, just-” He paused on his flight out the door, “Just don’t watch the movie without me.”

 

“Yeah, of course-” The door shut with a slam and Gerard was left alone.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

  * ****Pages of a brochure welcoming you to Our Lady of Thorns Sacred Heart Church, San Antonio, Texas****



 

 

* * *

 

Gerard had set up his thick umbrella over the porch that morning, sitting back with a book open in his lap as clouds rolled over the sky shielding him from the sun. A welcome change from the usual glaring star.

 

His book was an old, dog-eared volume with yellowing pages titled:  _Let's Call It Love._

 

It was an old romance novel of Carrie’s that she had read several times before he could bring himself to ask about it. Which might have been a mistake  because she gushed over every detail of the characters and the plot and the author (who had wisely used a pseudonym) and then had begged him to read it. Gerard said he would, and now she had taken to quizzing him on it, so he really had no choice.

 

He really didn't like it, which he felt a little guilty about.

 

“Oh, forgive me, Father,” Gerard wasn’t really paying any attention to the words anymore, looking out over the church’s backyard to the soccer fields across the street where the boy’s teams were practicing, dressed in the mesh practice jerseys and doing drills up and down the field. Gerard thought about Mr. Cash’s neighbor and her boys, now walking home because the minivan was trapped in their vandalized garage.

 

The team always walked past the church to get picked up, maybe he could start offering snacks.

 

He smiled, knowing Carrie would love the idea, she would have orange slices ready before he could even ask.

 

His gaze turned to the road.

 

Mikey hadn’t come back yet, and every dark looking car made Gerard jump, thinking it was the hearse. He wondered if vampires were susceptible to hypertension, his blood pressure seemed so high lately.

 

He sighed and stepped back inside as the clouds halted the sun in its tracks.

 

Mid-morning news played on the TV, filling the background as he checked the fridge-

 

 _“Fucking-”_  Gerard bit his tongue,  _“Mikey,_  come on.”

 

Nothing in the fridge except dust.

 

He quickly scrawled a new list on the post-it notes next to the sink and angrily stuck it to the fridge, settling down to the TV.

 

“An update on the possible kidnapping of Chicago teen, Patrick Stump,” A woman was filling in for the usual reporter, and Gerard turned the volume up, “Various calls have been made to the Sheriff, claiming sightings of Patrick, many from out of state, the Sheriff declined to comment on the validity of these reports but has stated they are taking all available resources to find him, and are not ruling out a runaway as a possibility, even as the damage to the Stump home has proven to be from a confrontation and a fight.”

 

Gerard shook his head and wondered if he knew the reporter from any Mass Services, even with the low definition on the TV, he could see her teeth were sharp like a cat’s and her irises were framed in red.

 

“Several citizens of Chicago have come forward with complaints about the Sheriff’s department on the status of the investigation, and have voiced concerns that the measures taken have drawn away from other impending investigations,” The reporter shifted to a slightly more business-like tone, “We bring you to Chicago, where we were able to document a few of these complaints.”

 

The graphics flashed on the screen and Gerard sat forward.

 

Another vampire appeared and he had to smile, two in a row on TV didn’t happen often.

 

This vampire, however, was bedraggled instead of dressed for the news, his clothes loose and old looking and his eyes were a cloudy blue and gray. His ears were pointed and filled with piercings and he was pale, his brown skin reflecting the harsh lighting of the police department.

 

“It’s not fair,” He was saying, and Gerard frowned in sympathy, “You spend all this time looking for this kid when he could be a runaway, there are people here, in Chicago that need help, I-” The vampire fumbled with his coat and his name appeared on screen: Max Schneider. “My neighbor, my friend-” he brought out a picture from the pockets of his coat, “His name is Pete Wentz, he went missing before Patrick and his apartment was destroyed-” The picture was put into frame, “And they haven’t done anything except tell me to keep an eye out… I’ve known Pete for-” Max coughed, quickly changing his words, “-Since forever, please if you have any  _information-_ ”

 

The audio cut and the picture was displayed with the first reporter speaking: “Any information can be emailed to the Sheriff’s department and the number for any sightings of either of these people is open 24 hours…”

 

Gerard eyed the picture, where ‘Pete’ was shown smiling wide with Max and another man.

 

All three were vampires, bleached out and pale in the bright camera flash while the background was pitch black in shadows. They might have been standing in a graveyard, Gerard couldn't tell.

 

He didn’t want to imagine the worst, for either of the missing.

 

They could be connected, or they weren’t. It could have been a run-in with hunters that were too overzealous and mean, and justice would never be served because the Guild protected their own just a little too much sometimes.

 

Or.

 

And Gerard hated thinking it.

 

Or Patrick met a vampire and Pete ran to cover his very obvious breach of Association Law and had to bury a body.

 

He hoped it was neither and would add Pete Wentz to his list of prayers.

 

The door slammed open and Gerard jumped to his feet, heart beating rapidly, “Geez! Mikey! Careful!”

 

“There’s cloud cover,” Mikey brushed past quickly and Gerard twisted to watch him dig dry cereal out of the cupboard.

 

“Is… Is your friend okay?”

 

Mikey gave him a small glance over his glasses, “Oh, um, yeah he’s fine, it’s whatever.”

 

“It sounded serious,” Gerard pushed, “If he still needs help-”

 

“He’s fine,” Mikey shrugged, “He had a pigeon, got some sleep.”

 

Before Gerard could blink Mikey was gone, the door to his bedroom shutting with a flap of posters threatening to fall to the ground.

 

Gerard’s mouth clicked shut, “Great.”

 

The church was quiet, save for small meetings held by the church office, clubs organized by the more elderly members of the community that weren’t involved in Our Lady of Thorn’s other activities.

 

Other activities meaning blood.

 

They were old Eccentrics, senior citizens that had lost their Sightlessness years ago, many of them veterans that Gerard knew had been in units with vampires and other more private creatures, lycans being one of them.

 

He hesitated at the door to one of the meetings, various nurses and soldiers from Korea and World War II. Their voices low and gravelly with age as they joked and Gerard sucked in an uncomfortable breath.

 

Many of them were older than him, born in the 20’s or 30’s, and he shifted awkwardly at the thought if things went differently, would he be in a chair? Joking about war stories and modern technology? His stomach twisted.

 

“Preacher! Don’t just stand around, come in!”

 

Gerard looked up, surprised at a former nurse standing at attention to see him, smile wide.

 

“Oh, Mrs. Ross, I’m sorry I didn’t want to interrupt,” He shook his head as his cheeks grew hot.

 

“Oh, shut up, it’s always lovely to see you, especially so casual,” She laughed when Gerard glanced down at his jeans and Pink Floyd t-shirt, still blushing as dark as was possible, “Come on in, and call me Diana- Hank move your butt for the preacher-Preacher you can have a seat right next to Dean there, don’t listen if he asks for a salute, the poor thing never made it past corporal.”

 

Gerard took his seat as the chatting resumed, turning to greet Dean and Hank and accepting the juice being passed around.

 

“How are you sirs?”

 

“Grandkids are down from Ohio,” Hank drawled, “Still askin’ me if I’ll ever get a computer.”

 

“And will you?” Gerard smiled.

 

“I’ll be dead before I figure out how to install it,” He smiled, “What would I use it for?”

 

“Email, news…” Dean shook his head, “My wife loves all these videos with ducks and cats,” He waved his hand, “She worked in communication anyway, she was made for it.”

 

“Whatever,” Hank scoffed, “I got bills from the 80’s I still have to pay, I don’t need anything added on.”

 

“I think the first computer Mikey and I ever saw was in a library,” Gerard picked at his fingernails but felt more relaxed, “It was only a directory for books, but we couldn’t stop staring like we were watching the moon landing again.”

 

Hank and Dean hummed out gruff agreements and engaged Gerard in a talk about their old neighborhoods. He felt, for a moment, his actual age, a sixty or even seventy year old man from New Jersey who had gotten the draft to Vietnam right out of the seminary. He could have been a chaplain if he hadn’t been turned.

 

Then a knock.  

 

“Hey, preacher, I’ve been looking for you,” Carrie hesitated in the doorframe, “Sorry to interrupt Diana, the preacher has a phone call.”

 

“Of course!” Diana waved, “We’ll see you later preacher.”

 

Hank and Dean nodded their goodbyes and the group chimed in with them.

 

“It was good to talk with you,” Gerard stepped away, “I should stop by more often.”

 

“Good seeing you outside of Mass,” Hank shook his hand and Gerard made after Carrie.

 

“This call came through like a second ago,” She was wearing heels today, and Gerard was almost jogging to keep up with her, “Only asking for you, but he called the main line for event information, so I wasn’t sure what to do…”

 

“Could be Troye?”

 

“Maybe, it’s hard to tell, but he sounds frantic.”

 

“Thank you for getting me anyway,” Gerard nodded, the urgency in Carrie’s voice evident.

 

“Hank and Dean getting overbearing?” She smiled.

 

“No, no… I run out of things to talk about sometimes,” He shrugged, “It’s fun because we’re close in age… but then it’s just… They went to war, I lived out of my car with Mikey.”

 

Carrie fell silent.

 

The office was as quiet as usual, with only the hum of the air conditioning and the computer fans blowing to add to the space.

 

The phone hung off its hook, dangling off the desk haphazardly as Carrie swooped down to retrieve it, putting her ear to the receiver and thrusting it at Gerard over the desk, “He’s still on the line, rambling.”

 

Gerard took the phone, hesitating to put it to his ear. He could hear the person on the other line murmuring to themselves, a quiet drone that whispered through the receiver until he brought the phone up. Then it stopped abruptly.

 

“Hello?” Gerard questioned.

 

Silence.

 

He glanced at Carrie, who only shrugged.

 

“Hello?” Gerard asked again, “This is Gerard Way, you were asking for me?”

 

The person on the other line took a breath and sighed, rasping and dry.

 

“Don’t… follow him,” The voice said, almost under their breath and Gerard gasped.

 

“Ray Toro?” He shifted the phone to his other ear, “Ray Toro, is that you? What are you talking about?”

 

“Locked in cages… all of them,” Ray Toro continued, still rasping, “It’s… It’s… He wants them-” Ray broke down into a series of rough coughs that Gerard could feel in his own lungs, his voice cracking and his rib cage aching.

 

“Ray Toro?” Gerard tried again, “I need you to calm down, what are you talking about?”

 

“I-” Ray Toro sucked in a rattling breath and the line clicked, for a second Gerard thought he had hung up until he said, “He’s gone-” Then the line buzzed, and the phone shocked Gerard’s hand with electricity that traveled down his arm and tightened his grip.

 

He yelped in pain and in his shock, dropped the phone.

 

“What?” Carrie jumped back to her feet, “What happened?”

 

“Call it back!” Gerard’s electrified hand seemed to vibrate, “Call it back!”

 

Carrie grabbed the phone, eyes wide, and began to tap the buttons for the last call, and stopped.

 

“What are you waiting for? He could be in trouble!” Gerard pushed his hand under his armpit to try and still the twitching muscle.

 

“The receiver is cracked,” Carrie stared at the phone, wistful, and showed it to Gerard, “Like you took a hammer to it.”

 

Around the speaker’s holes, hair-thin cracks had appeared in the plastic, swirling like a spider web to the edge of the phone in jagged lines. Gerard stared, his mouth falling open. The phone had shattered like thin glass, hairline cracks appearing in the plastic.

 

“Does it still work?” Gerard asked.

 

Carrie put the phone to her ear and typed in a number.

 

She waited, leaning against the desk and pushing her palms into the plastic.

 

She hung up and typed another number, waiting.

 

Then another, and another until she slammed the phone back down.

 

“Nothing, it’s completely shot.”

 

Gerard shook his head.

 

“Freak accident?” Carrie ventured.

 

“It’s gotta be Ray Toro, there’s something wrong with him, like he’s been cursed, or-or….” He shrugged, “ _Something.”_

 

“And we need a new phone,” Carrie stated, glum, “Or something.”

 

“Take it out of the plumbing fund,” Gerard waved his hand, absent-minded, then blinked, staring into space before sitting down heavily into a nearby office chair. He slumped, pushing the chair and wheeling backward, stretching out his legs in front of him with a sigh.

 

Carrie reached to rub his shoulder, tousling a chunk of his hair in her fingers, “It’ll be okay,” She said, voice soft and comforting.

 

“I have no idea how to help this kid,” Gerard spoke to the floor, “I don’t even know what’s wrong with him.”

 

Carrie rubbed her thumb into his shoulder and tilted her head, “Maybe you’re not supposed to, maybe you’re just supposed to be there for him… You  _are_  only a preacher.”

 

Gerard flicked his eyes up to meet hers and she shrugged again, raising her eyebrows.

 

“You can comfort him, pray for him, I don’t know, other Catholic stuff…” She sat back and pushed her chair back to her desk, “Maybe God has something to do with this.”

 

“Never heard you talk about having faith before Carrie,” Gerard had to smile.

 

“I’m one of those quiet Catholics,” Carrie glanced at him, “You only see me during the holidays.”

 

Gerard stood and stretched, feeling slightly comforted, “And yet it’s Ordinary Time,” She laughed as she booted up the computer monitor, typing up an order for a new office phone.

 

“I’m in it for the money,” She joked, and before he could exit the office she stopped him, “I’m right you know! About having faith… Sometimes it pays off.”

 

He grinned, “You’re wonderful Carrie.”

 

She paused to look back up at him, “I think it’s a sin to be mean to a priest.” He barked out a short laugh and left the office, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

 

It wasn’t long until his thoughts turned gloomy, however, even as the sun set beautifully behind the horizon and the boy’s soccer team trooped past. Their long strides gave away how tired they were, feet aching in dirty sneakers as they made their way to the line of cars parked in the church parking lot, sun glaring off tinted windows. A few boys held their sweaty jerseys around their shoulders and Gerard thought again of setting out small snacks or juice. He would have to contact the coach, and they could have a small party in the backyard after a game.

 

Of course, Gerard would have to say a blessing, they  _always_ wanted a blessing.

 

And he’d have to be extra careful with his umbrella if it was sunny, even if it had withstood thunderstorms, he was afraid of ripping it.

 

Father Schechter might like the idea, he could set up another saint in the prayer garden too, Gerard knew he had been gunning for St. Sebastian the second the coach had asked for use of the parking lot. _“Patron saint of sports! Gerard, come on.”_

 

Gerard really missed him.

 

The apartment was silent when he stepped back in, the TV set on mute on the home shopping channel. Which was how he had left it. No sign that Mikey had traversed past his bedroom door.

 

Gerard pressed his thumbs into his palms and backed out, making his way to the church in his socks.

 

The church was dark, almost comfortingly so, with the way the candles flickered against the mural of Gabriel. The setting sun shone dimly through the stained glass and illuminated his wings. The effect seemed to make the angel come alive. His feathers rustling in the light and his calm eyes looked down upon the viewer.

 

He didn’t seem as real as the Lady of Thorns herself, but he towered over Gerard as if he had expected him.

 

Gerard gulped, “Forgive me for not wearing my collar.”

 

Gabriel declined to answer, simply watching as Gerard lit another candle.

 

“This is for Ray Toro… but you probably knew that already,” He did the sign of the cross and sighed, “I guess…” He looked up at Gabriel, then down at his feet. He contemplated stepping into the confession booth, but hesitated in front of the dented wood, tracing Mikey’s fist with his finger and looking toward the Tabernacle.

 

The painting of the Lady seemed to look him straight in the eye, the candles flickering off her face.

 

As the story goes, she had appeared in a thorn bush to Roman officers, consumed by flame, though nothing seemed to burn her. As the vision faded, a statue replaced her, still burning with a righteous flame.

 

In the dim, she looked angry.

 

As he drew closer, he could only stare at his feet.

 

“Just help the kid out okay?” He paused, “Carrie is right… about having faith.”

 

He was out the door fast.

 

And Mikey was back.

 

Out of his room, eyes wide as Gerard appeared. Apparently, they were both surprised to see each other.

 

“Oh,” Gerard glanced at the floor, “Mikey.”

 

“Yeah, I uh, wanted something to eat.”

 

“Yeah, there’s nothing in there,” Gerard gestured toward the kitchen, “Would you mind heading to the store?”

 

Mikey rocked back and forth on his feet, “I’m going out again, so maybe.”

 

Gerard suddenly wished he wasn’t, but nodded, “Do you need another list?”

 

“I have the first one,” Mikey stuck his hands in his pocket.

 

Gerard felt himself compress, his back crawled with imaginary bugs and his hair scratched at his scalp. He took a step to the couch, “Is he okay? I tried to ask you earlier-”

 

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Mikey almost snapped, “We got him away from Sightless blocks, he’s fine.”

 

If he didn’t want to talk about it, Gerard wouldn’t ask him too, but the sick feeling in his gut gathered in his throat. “That’s good.”

 

“Anyway, I’m going out again,” Mikey gathered his parka around his shoulders as Gerard sat down, not wanting to look at him anymore, “I’ll stop at Target or whatever.”

 

It wasn’t until later into the night for Gerard to see him actually leave. He had been skulking away, in his room, until Gerard peaked through the windows of the Church office to see an old red BMW in the parking lot. It was slightly beaten up, dented in places, but cared for.

 

Gerard squinted, spreading the blinds with his fingers.

 

Two boys, Mikey’s height. He recognized one.

 

“Balz,” He whispered to himself.

 

Mikey appeared on the lot, hands stuffed in the pockets of his parka, his walk brisk and businesslike. Gerard snapped the blinds shut.

 

* * *

 

 

_-Happy Ordinary Time!_

 

_Our Lady of Thorns Sacred Heart Church has an opening on our staff_

_for a janitorial position, apply in the church office with Ms. Brownstein!_

_Experience is required and hours are (slightly) negotiable._

 

_Thank you!_

 

 

  * **_**_A small note pasted to church bulletin by Carrie Brownstein, San Antonio, Texas_**_**



 

 

* * *

 

 

Gerard’s skin crawled as he paced, back and forth, back and forth in the church office. Carrie followed him with her eyes, absentmindedly eating the Chinese takeout she had brought from home.

 

“He’s been out for longer,” She supplied, rubbing at her eyes, “Sometimes for three days, what makes this any different?”

 

Gerard clenched his fists, trying to ignore the smell of chicken lo mein as he whipped back around to eye the main doors, hoping to see Mikey or the red BMW pull into the parking lot. “It’s different because I’ve actually  _met_  one of the guys he hangs out with.”

 

“And?”

 

 _“And-_ ” Gerard stopped, taking a deep breath, “This…  _Balz_ guy, he rubs me the wrong way, like he’s done something bad.”

 

“I get that sometimes,” Carrie spoke through lo mein, “Mostly when I see these Sightless men in parking lots at night, that fear just doesn’t go away.”

 

Gerard nodded, “He’s always laughing about something, and I haven’t met the rest of them, but Mikey’s always telling me about fires they set and how they vandalize stuff, they’re probably behind the egging in Mr. Cash’s neighborhood, you know, and the garage.”

 

“Mikey’s smart, okay?” She shook her head, “They’re just some slightly Fresh-Turned teenagers, they’ll grow out of it.”

 

Gerard went to pacing again, his stomach growled and Carrie pushed her takeout box, “Are you sure you don’t want any orange chicken?”

 

“No,” Gerard snapped, “I hate orange chicken.”

 

“Then I’ll get General Tso’s next time,” She defended, rubbing at her eyes and yawning, “Jeez.”

 

He fiddled with his clerical collar and clawed his nervous fingers through his hair, “Right, sorry… Why not just go home? You’re obviously tired.”

 

“And leave you to pace a hole through the floor?” She shook her head, “Besides I can’t sleep anyway… The damn cemetery is so loud since they started that construction…” Her voice faded, “Can’t even think straight.”

 

Gerard frowned, knowing she was leaving him out of the loop on something, and he stopped in front of her desk, tapping his fingers on the raised platform. Business cards, held up in a small display, advertised Our Lady of Thorns, along with the rose logo and a small picture of the mural of the Lady, gazing fiercely out from the paper. He fingered one uselessly.

 

“...Carrie-”

 

Carrie stood fast, “There he is!” Gerard pivoted on the balls of his feet as fast as he could, stomach clenching. For a moment it was just Mikey, walking glumly back into the church, only making eye contact with the ground. But then, “Oh shit-”

 

Miss Macy was behind him, grinning evilly behind the brim of a pink flowered hat, her heels so high Gerard wondered why she wasn’t falling forward yet, she was so top heavy, not just from the hat. Mikey’s expression was one of shame, and embarrassment, when he finally met Gerard’s eyes, halting before the door as Miss Macy rushed to open it, pushing past him with a small and excited trot.

 

She pushed him in the door and Mikey winced, looking away from Gerard, his brow furrowing.

 

“Sorry to bother you so late at night, Preacher!” Miss Macy’s voice squeaked into soprano and her smile reminded Gerard of a toad’s. “But I see you’re still working!”

 

“It’s…” Gerard cast a fleeting look to Mikey, still staring at the ground. Gerard could almost smell his shame. “It’s wonderful to see you, Miss Macy, what brings you by?”

 

“Nothing good, unfortunately,” She tilted her head and Gerard could hear the unspoken:  _For you._

 

She grabbed Mikey by the shoulders, her manicured fingers spread like talons over his thick parka. He stumbled back when she pulled him and Gerard struggled to control the fierce flare of anger that sparked in his throat.

 

“It seems,” Miss Macy gave him and Carrie two wildly different smiles, “That  _this one_  thought he could sneak into my personal and very private property! It’s a good thing I have a Home Security System installed!” With every word she said, Mikey deflated, and the lump in Gerard’s throat grew in size with each syllable. Carrie dared not speak a word.

 

“I found this one hiding in my Laundry room all tucked into my folded linens just sleeping the day away!” She accentuated her glee with a sharp bark of laughter reaching decibels that made all three of them flinch, “Why, I’m lucky I found him before he did anything reckless! Who knows what he would have done had I not?” She waited for a second for them to theorize and Mikey bolted upright to stare at Gerard, desperately shaking his head.

 

“No, G, I-”

 

Miss Macy squeezed his shoulders to quiet him, “To think of what the police might say! A truant like this, trespassing into a good Christian woman’s home and sleeping amongst her  _Unmentionables!”_

 

Gerard almost smiled, ridiculously, as she continued on her tirade, choking back a ridiculous burst of laughter.

 

“Miss Macy-” Carrie stepped forward and Gerard was flung back into reality.

 

Mikey was pale, paler than usual at least, his hair wasn’t combed and his glasses were slightly askew from having been woken up by a screaming woman hitting him with her unmentionables. But his eyes were wide and confused, only able to stare at a single spot on the carpet.

 

“Oh no, Ms. Brownstein!” Miss Macy shrieked, “I am not holding _your_  brother to keep him from escaping, am I? I am addressing the Preacher and the Preacher alone! He has allowed this-this…  _Delinquent_ , to terrorize our good streets for far too long! Him and his little friends, traipsing around at night and revving the engine on that car of theirs and disturbing all of San Antonio!”

 

Gerard blinked.

 

Miss Macy blinked.

 

Carrie pressed her fingers into her eyes in frustration.

 

“Robin-”

Miss Macy tutted, cutting off Gerard without a word and stalked toward him, “I have… Security cameras, outlining my property, and I _will_ press charges, Preacher.”

 

“You can’t.”

 

Carrie stood stock still, incredulous.

 

“I can’t?” Miss Macy clucks, “I  _can_ , and I will! Ms. Brownstein, I will contact the Bishop, the Reverend, and then  _the police_ , and then I will  _sue!_  For emotional distress! Trespassing!”

 

“No!” Carrie struggles and Gerard squeezed his hands into fists, “You can’t because… Because-”

 

“Blackmailing us is easier!” The words tumbled out of Gerard’s mouth before he could even think about what he was saying.

 

Miss Macy cast him a strange look, but an intrigued one, “An ugly word, Preacher.”

 

“I-” He glances desperately at Mikey, whose eyes are wide and bewildered, “I mean… Extortion! Would you prefer extortion?”

 

“I would prefer a strong Sidecar and never seeing you again,” Miss Macy responded, biting, and Gerard fumbled for a nanosecond.

 

“W-wow, so, extortion-”

 

“Cancel the drive?”

 

Gerard could hear his heart in his ears and before he can ask she repeats herself.

 

“Cancel it,” Miss Macy waves her hand, “Call the nurses and announce it during Mass, no Blood Drive, my parish will hold our own.”

 

A weight pressed down on Gerard.

 

“Or I’ll press charges.”

 

“Okay,” He nodded his head furiously, “Canceled, done.”

 

“Gerard!” Mikey steps forward and Miss Macy grabs his parka hood again.

 

“Thank you, Preacher, you have a lovely little church,” She threw the parka away just as fast, “I  _will_ be keeping tabs on our agreement.” She smiles like a toad and Gerard gulps down a heavy urge to throw up.

 

Mikey’s whole body shakes for a moment, watching Miss Macy leave.

 

“Mikey,” Gerard stepped towards him and Mikey steps back, wrapping his arms around himself, “Mikey,” Mikey almost dodged his reach but stayed when Gerard found his shoulders, “Are you okay?”

 

Mikey stared at him, wide-eyed, then nodded, “I’m fine I-”

 

“What were you thinking!?” Carrie rushed forward, her tone was angry but she was already smoothing the hair from around Mikey’s face.

 

“Carrie-” Gerard started.

 

“I mean, breaking and entering? Into Miss Macy’s house!? I-”

 

“I didn’t know!” Mikey defended himself, past shaking, “I had no idea it was  _her_ house!”

 

“What were you doing, breaking and entering in the first place?” Gerard asked, joining Carrie.

 

“I-” Mikey paused, staring up at him, then coughed, “I-I was gonna get caught, out in the sun… I didn’t start home early enough and I didn’t have the hearse,” He scrambled and Gerard frowned more, “I swear to God, I didn’t know it was her house, it technically wasn’t even B and E, there wasn’t any B.”

“And that makes the E part any better?” Carrie asked, then faltered, “Wait, what do you mean?”

 

“Her back door was unlocked,” Mikey picked at his fingernails, “I swear, I didn’t know she lived there, or even in that neighborhood, I just remember going in and finding a place to hide and then she’s screaming and I have her underwear in my hair-” Carrie removes her hand from his head with an awkward wave of her fingers, “-I tried to run but the sun was still up through her windows and she dragged me out to the garage… I had my jacket zipped up all the way the entire drive, the hood, and everything, and she kept talking-” Mikey caught himself, shooting Gerard a look he couldn’t read, “I swear I could smell burning the whole way until it set…” He trailed off and fingered the hem of his sleeves. “G, I’m…” He tucked his hands into his pockets, “I’m so sorry, I never meant for any of this to happen…”

 

“No,” Gerard shook his head, “No, Mikey, I’m just… I’m glad you’re okay.”

 

“And you have to cancel the Drive because of me,” Mikey looked away, “If she even holds to her deal.”

 

“She’ll hold,” Carrie assured him, “Especially if she’s holding it over our heads, that woman will do anything to be marked as a ‘pillar of the community’, which, if I can remember correctly, was what the local news called Father Schechter before he left on his mission.”

 

Gerard smiled, “I’d rather cancel a Drive than have you put in prison or something,” He left out the parts where he acknowledged that if Mikey went to jail, he wouldn’t live long enough to get out. What, with the sun and no access to blood, or even just regular prison murder, which was probably survivable, if Gerard remembered correctly about vampirism and mortal wounds.

 

But the sun, of course.

 

Mikey had another strange look in his eye, almost relief. Gerard frowned.

 

“No Drive,” He said, “And no charges for… Entering.”

 

“Right,” Carrie nodded, glum.

 

Gerard nodded, solemn, until out of the corner of his eye he saw the bulletin board. It announced the Blood Drive with excited red lettering. He felt jittery, his slightly undead heart picking up the pace. Mikey shot him an anxious look.

 

“Gerard I… I’m sorry, it’s all my fault,” There was a strange relieved expression on his face that Gerard tried not to read into.

 

Gerard shook his head, “No, you didn’t know…” He leaned against the wall, tired, “Everyone looks forward to it and the nurses love coming for a bite-” He paused, then shook his head, “It’s important… Father Schechter wanted it to be somewhere we can be ourselves, and a lot of them depend on it… I guess all we have is the Steak Dinner, I mean-”

 

“Oh my god,” Carrie practically sprinted back into the office and Gerard tapped his fingers against his thigh, anxious that Miss Macy would suddenly return like the wicked witch on her broom. “Oh my god!”

 

“What?”

 

“Oh my god!” She repeated, “Preacher! The Steak Dinner! We just double this…” She trailed off, tapping furiously at her computer, “Squeeze that shit together- whoops! Sorry, Preacher…”

 

She ran back out, “The Steak Dinner!”

 

Gerard nodded, not understanding until it slapped him in the face, “Holy shit!” He clamped his mouth shut and blushed.

 

“What?” Mikey’s eyes flicked between the two of them,  _“What?”_

 

“The Steak Dinner!” Gerard echoed Carrie and she reached forward to clasp his hands with her own, “We reschedule and keep it under Miss Macy’s nose! The nurses can easily reschedule!”

 

Carrie laughed, “I know, I know, I’m just full of wisdom!” Mikey nodded, smiling softly.

 

“Oh… That’s-” He nodded, more enthusiastic, “That’s great!”

 

Gerard couldn’t help but clap him on the shoulder, “You’ll be fine, I’m your brother, I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you.”

 

Mikey breathed out a sigh, slightly strained, and smiled back without teeth, “Right.”

 

“Right,” Gerard said, an uneasy feeling tracing its way through his body.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Carrie! How are you? I miss my girl!_

_Is it still the graveyard?_

_It’s keeping you up I know, ugh…_

_Construction has got to slow down sooner or later,_

_why not come and stay with me, huh? All those_

_extra shifts at the church, I mean I know the_

_Preacher is so cute, a little young for us now-_

_I know, I know! Tell him hi from me after you get_

_this. Girl, you have to sleep though, call me back._

_It’s Corin, by the way, you know in case you forgot_

_what my beautiful voice sounds like, love ya!_

 

 

  * **_**_Saved message from Corin Tucker to Carrie Brownstein’s landline, San Antonio, Texas_**_**



 

 

* * *

 

 

“No offers for the janitorial position just yet,” Carrie said over her shoulder, organizing a few papers into mailboxes, “I’m holding out, might just have to hire a Sightless.”

 

Gerard pulled a face, “Let’s not.”

 

“Yeah,” Carrie smacked her gum, “Let’s not.”

 

“Phone is fixed though,” Gerard gestured to the new office phone by Carrie’s computer, “Got the message out to the parish about scheduling…”

 

“How’s Mikey?”

 

“Hm?” Gerard hesitated, weaving his fingers through the coiled phone cord.

 

“Mikey? Your sweet babyest brother?” Carrie shot him a smile, “The one you said nothing bad would happen to? Him.”

 

“Ah,” Gerard sat down heavily into her office chair.

 

“Ah,” She repeated.

 

“He’s acting weird again,” He finally answered, his tone darker than he had intended, “Or like he would normally act… We watch a movie and it feels awesome and we’re talking again and then his friends show up, we have some fun together and his friends show up-”

 

“Maybe now that you and his friends know more about each other…” Carrie thought for a moment, “He’s scared of what you might think.”

 

“Since when would he care what I thought?” Gerard asked, incredulous.

 

“Never know…” She chimed, “You’re his big brother, you have more experience and you’ve been the adult for a long time… He might even look up to you.”

 

Gerard tapped his fingers against his thigh and Carrie smiled, “Hm?”

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

“Whatever you say…” She sang.

 

Gerard was saved by the phone ringing, loud and repetitive.

 

“Ooooh,” Carrie clapped, “Let’s see what our first caller has to say!” She put a finger to her lips and tucked the phone between her neck and shoulder to continue organizing papers, “Our Lady of Thorns, now with a new phone, this is Carrie how can I help you?”

 

She paused, her eyes flicking to Gerard and back to the papers in her hand. The smile drifted from her face and Gerard raised his eyebrows.

 

“Hello?” She adjusted the phone and set the papers down, “If this is Keegan and your little posse, I swear-” She stopped, “-Prank calls can be filed in for harassment.”

 

Her expression softened, “No… No, it’s okay, I understand, would you…” She gave Gerard a sad glance and mouthed:  _“Ray Toro.”_

 

Gerard leaned forward, eyes wide.

 

“No, honey, it’s perfectly fine… Your call history huh? I’m so sorry, the phone has been down, I should have been more direct on the website it’s really my fault-” She blinked, “... There’s no problem, you really don’t remember?”

 

Gerard made a grabbing motion with his hand to Carrie.

 

“Would you want to talk to-” She paused.

 

“-Oh my goodness, of course, sweetheart I-”

 

Gerard pleaded with her with his eyes, desperate to know what he was saying.

 

She hung up.

 

“What?” Gerard squeaked, “You should have let me talk to him!”

 

“He’s coming here,” She responded, robotically.

 

“He's coming-”

 

“He's coming here, you should have heard him-”

 

“Well, I  _would_  have if-”

 

Carrie shushed him suddenly, making him sputter. “I'm  _saying_ he sounded so  _scared_ , Preacher, like he was looking over his shoulder, says his call history had been to this place but he doesn't remember making any calls in the last few days, so he called but he was so scared he didn't know what to say so he was just on the line silent… he was crying, poor baby…” She gave him a desperate look, “He really doesn't know what's happening to him.”

 

“Neither do  _I_ , Carrie,” Gerard wrung his hands, “It's the blind leading the blind here… It's not vampirism or anything I would know anything about, and the last thing I want is to get the Guild involved-”

 

“Well, Janet is good people-”

 

“Most of them are, Carrie,” Gerard snapped, “But if I can do this without just uprooting him from his life and Sightlessness, I can't get them in on this, they'll ship him to Pennsylvania or…” He waved his hand dismissively.

 

He sat back down with a deep sigh.

 

Carrie followed behind in her own chair.

 

“When will he be here?” He asked, ignoring the dread creeping into his voice.

 

“Soon,” Carrie cast a glance at the clock on her screen, “The university isn't far.”

 

Gerard wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and grabbed the keys to Father Schechter’s office. “I'll make some coffee.”

 

Watching the coffee brew made Gerard more anxious than he'd been all week. He'd always itched for a smoke when that happened as if that would help the burgeoning panic attack nipping at his heels.

 

“Shit, shit shit shit,” He said to the statue of St. Anthony, “Why suddenly come here?  _Fuck.”_

 

Ray had arrived when Gerard finished brewing the coffee in the library, nervously standing at the front desk to chat with Carrie. He looked tired, Gerard could tell through the windows. He was disheveled and couldn't keep his eyes fixed on one spot for long, looking all around the church office as if something would suddenly jump out at him. His backpack hung from one shoulder, falling open and stuffed with paper. His arm was still broken, the cast having collected a few more signature and he couldn't keep his other arm away for very long before he had to scratch at it. Gerard tilted his head in sympathy.

 

His own heart was beating like he was on crack or something.

 

Carrie could be heard through the door, “...And I'm sure they keep you busy up there! What's your major?”

 

Ray scratched at his arm, “Um, film,” Gerard could only hear him because of his enhanced senses.

 

“So you want to direct?” Carrie coaxed him.

 

“Um… Maybe,” Ray shrugged,  “Or write…”

 

“Either way, you're name is on the big screen!” She was trying to get him to smile, “Speaking of directors…” She waved at Gerard,  “He's got coffee for you-” Gerard pushed his way into the office and heard the blood rush from Ray Toro’s face. Carrie tried not to let on she had heard it as well, suddenly humming to herself loudly. Gerard smiled softly.

 

He tried to forget the taste of his blood on his tongue.

 

“Nice to see you, Ray Toro, I didn't think you would come so quick,” He pushed the coffee and Ray grabbed it with a lot hesitation.

 

“Nice to… Nice to see you too, Preacher.”

 

Gerard tried to project a calm and peaceful aura even though he was literally always shaking with anxiety.

 

“I'm glad your last visit didn't scare you away,” Gerard tried to joke.

 

“Oh… yeah,” Ray Toro grabbed a fistful of his shirt and squeezed.

 

Carrie coughed to dispel the tension.

 

“Step into my office?” Gerard gestured to Father Schechter's office, “Or my boss's office.”

 

Ray Toro nodded, following closely behind as Gerard led the way.

 

The office was in eerily the same state as it had been in when he'd had his almost disastrous meeting with Troye. The light still filtering through the blinds as a warm orange and the pillows messed up how Troye had positioned them.

 

Gerard welcomed Ray to sit on the couch.

 

“So Ms. Brownstein said you’ve been having a rough time,” Gerard sat in the seat across from him. Ray Toro smiled awkwardly and looked into his coffee.

 

“I mean…” He sighed, “Besides the sleepwalking, yeah.”

 

“Why not go to a psychologist? Do you have a counselor on campus?” Gerard speed the coffee, frowning.

 

“I don't think I could afford the psych,” Ray spoke low, into his lap, “Counselor tells me the same thing everyone else is, stress.”

 

“So you come to a preacher,” Gerard offered, smiling, Ray returned it awkwardly.

 

“So I come to a preacher,” He adjusts himself.

 

“Why do you think it's more than stress?”

 

“Because… Why would I even find out about this place if I hadn't walked for like seven blocks in my sleep?” Ray’s expression changed, desperation leaking into his features, “I don't… I don't remember calling this place, all those times, or even…” He leaned in like it was a secret, “Or even this time, I was  _asleep,_ since last night and then… And then I was on the line and Ms. Brownstein was talking, I couldn’t take it, I  _had_  to come back.”

 

Gerard nodded, not sure what he could say to comfort him.

 

“And lately it's been like… you know that tracking shot in Boogie Nights? It's like that.”

 

“That movie directed by Paul Thomas Anderson?” Gerard furrowed his brow and Ray Toro shook his head and waved his hands dismissively.

 

“W-Whatever, it's just sometimes… I know I'm moving and know the dialogue but I can't actually  _watch_ the movie.”

 

“Except you know you’re being led here,” Gerard supplied, “You asked for me, that first night when you stood out in the parking lot.”

 

Ray Toro stared, mouth opening and closing at a loss for words. Gerard winced.

 

“You didn’t know about that.”

 

Ray shook his head in shock, “What did I… What did I do?” He asked, lower than a whisper.

 

“You stood out in the parking lot early in the morning, asking for me, but we got you back to your dorm.” Gerard left out the parts about squeezing his arm so hard he had almost made Gerard bleed.

 

Ray sat in silence, staring at the floor for a moment before sucking in a rattling breath, “I’ve been losing time.”

 

“So why not insist with your counselor?” Gerard asked quietly.

 

“I…” He paused, “It kind of turned into some sort of mystery novel I guess, or a noir film, I saw things or started being able to connect things… I don’t know maybe I just read too much Nancy Drew in middle school.”

 

“What kind of things?”

 

“News stories, mostly, violent crime, or murder… Mostly death,” He picked at his fingernails and finished his coffee, “There was a robbery down in El Paso, maybe… a month ago, I don’t even know. And I knew, like, at the back of my mind it wasn’t over, and then two weeks later there was a shooting and I… I don’t know why but I called the tip line and they had the suspects for the robbery out for the public, like the descriptions? And I read off of that… They-They found him because I pulled his description over an  _anonymous tip.”_

 

Ray was breathing heavily, his eyes wide, “How would I have known that? And I mean… At the time it was amazing I submitted a script project with the premise and I mean it wasn’t my best but a grade is a grade it was like all my Nancy Drew fantasies- I mean like, of solving mysteries-”

 

“Right.”

 

“-So it happened twice and I was fine until…” Ray deflated, “Until the mystery novel I was living in turned into a psychological thriller.”

 

Gerard nodded sympathetically, “When do you think it started?”

 

“The psychological thriller part?” Ray hesitated, “A couple months after that… It’s not… It’s not a happy story.”

 

“Neither is mine,” Gerard leaned forward, “Let me help you, or at least let me listen.”

 

Ray gave him a long and sullen look from behind his mass of hair and tapped his fingers on his knee.

 

“A friend of mine… Was hit by a car, and he… died,” Ray Toro sat back and itched at his face, “But before that, I read this report for an assignment about… I don’t remember, but part of it was suicide rates and I don’t why but it was like the robbery where I knew it was more than just something I read and I kept seeing him in dreams but I kept ending up at his dorm without knowing how I got there and I was late for class because I kept going to his door… That’s the first time I lost time but he didn’t… It wasn’t suicide, it was a car crash,” He insisted like he was trying to convince Gerard, “And then after he died… It wouldn’t stop, now I don’t have to read anything I just get dreams and I lose time and end up in places I haven't even heard of.”

 

He shrugged helplessly. “It's like there's just… something in my head, like, building up and it won't go away.”

 

Gerard sighed, “And you've gone through all of this alone.”

 

Ray shrugged.

 

“How would I even explain this?”

 

“Like you just did,” Gerard answered.

 

“And who would believe me? ‘Oh, yeah, I think I foresaw a deadly shooting in El Paso and I think I knew my friend was gonna die’ and I was  _wrong_ by the way, he didn't commit… He was hit by a car.”

 

“I'm just a preacher Ray, I can't… I'm not qualified to help you, I'll try but-”

 

“I've looked at every diagnosis, I just… I just wanted someone to know about it I guess.”

 

“I'm a glorified listener, Ray Toro,” Gerard smiled and Ray let himself smile back.

 

“At least feel sorry for me then.”

 

“Any time,” He watched Ray stand and adjust his shirt.

 

“Thanks for the coffee.”

 

“Come back sometime, or come for mass,” Gerard got to his feet, “We would love to have you.”

 

“I’m not very religious,” Ray shook his head and Gerard scrambled, if Ray was at Mass, he could have a better eye on him, or if he was cursed, the service might affect him… Gerard realized he had been standing still for a couple seconds too long.

 

“Oh,” Gerard hurried to open the door, “Well you confided in a preacher didn’t you?”

 

Ray was wiping his eyes still, “I just… Thanks.”

 

“Ray… If it ever gets… crazy, or if you need help just interpreting what you see,” Gerard paused, not sure where he was going, “I can help you, I’m your friend, okay?”

 

Ray nodded, thankful, then pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, “Right… I’ve got a class now… and maybe some soft weeping planned for later today.” Gerard snorted loudly and he could hear Carrie giggle.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” He nodded and Ray’s smile was wide and genuine as he walked backward.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You actually uh, interrupted my mid-morning cry,” Gerard raised his eyebrows.

 

“I’ll get out of your way then,” Ray waved his thanks one more time and made his way out the door, this time unlocking a green ten speed from the bike rack.

 

Gerard watched him go until he disappeared around a corner.

 

“So what’d he say?” Carrie weaved her fingers and rested her chin on the link.

 

Gerard puffed out a long sigh, “He’s seeing things before they happen, losing time, sleepwalking to places he’s never been…God, I don’t know, maybe he’s being haunted or possessed, or something.”

 

“Maybe it’s something, you know,” Carrie tilted her head, “Normal.”

 

“Schizophrenia, Dissociative Identity Disorder… anything like that, yeah, but what about seeing things before they happen? Predicting your friend’s death?” Gerard leaned on the counter and ran his fingers through his hair, “He thinks he’s going crazy and he comes to a church, to  _me,_ as if I know anything about mental health.”

 

Carrie bit her pen, “Steak Dinner is coming up and… it’s a lot, for the reschedule and Troye and Mikey and this? Just, I don’t know, and neither do you, we won’t know until we know.”

 

“So just don’t think about it?” Gerard asked, slightly bewildered.

 

“No! No… Just…” She searched for an answer with her eyes, “There’s nothing we, or you, can do right now, and until we find a way to help him, for real and not just let him talk about it, we can set it aside… Or else you’ll be carrying everything on your shoulders like… Father Schechter’s homily on bearing crosses.”

 

“Don’t… Don’t lecture me with Brian’s homily, I’ve heard it before.”

 

“I’m serious, Gerard,” Carrie looked him in the eye, “When’s the last time you had blood? Or talked to Mikey about what you’re worried about? If you put everyone before yourself… When will you be able to help yourself? Ray is… complicated, and so is Mikey, and I can’t even find a janitor and the parish has been helping to clean and I can’t sleep in my own home without-” She stops herself with a breath and Gerard wants to ask before she continued, “-What I’m saying is, you’re complicated too, and you have to put things on the backburner sometimes.”

 

“Carrie-”

 

“Listen,” Carrie stood, “My cross is my cross and you have yours,” She dug a folded up umbrella out of her desk drawer and shrugged on a thin jacket as quick as she could, “If you don’t mind I’m going out for lunch-” She stopped at the door to the office with a start, “-Oh my god, Mikey you scared me.”

 

“Sorry, Carrie,” Gerard turned to see Mikey awkwardly standing in the doorway, his hand on the door, having opened it in place of Carrie, “I just wanted to ask you-”

 

“Yeah, what?” Carrie interrupted him and he cast a glance at Gerard as if asking:

 

_“What’s up with her?”_

 

Gerard blinked back,  _“I don’t know, ask her.”_

 

Mikey looked away,  _“No way.”_

 

“I was gonna ask if you found anyone to fill in Mike’s job?”

 

“No,” Carrie unlatched, “You’re the only one that’s even mentioned it outside of services, so if you want it-”

“No, no, I was asking…” Mikey seemed to go a little paler, “My friend Ryan wanted it.”

 

Carrie straightened, “Oh,” She hurried back to her desk, “Does he have any references? What’s his name? Can he work late? Any experiences?” She pulled up a window on the computer and began typing furiously.

 

“Uh,” Mikey slid in next to Gerard at the counter and leaned over to see the screen, “No… Ryan Sitkowski, yeah, S-I-T-K-” He nodded, avoiding Gerard’s questioning look, “Yeah, and yeah… experience is… He’s a vampire and he needs money.”

 

“He’s hired,” Carrie pressed ‘Enter’ with an air of finality and Gerard coughed, “Just get him to fill this paper out-”

 

“Carrie!” Gerard protested.

 

“What?” Mikey snapped.

 

“No-” Gerard shook his head, “No offense, Mikey, I’ve never met him, Carrie’s never met him-”

 

“Honestly Gerard, it’s the only offer I’ve gotten,” Carrie tapped her finger on the paper so Mikey would know where his friend should write, “I’m taking it… Oh my god-” She rushed around and grabbed Mikey by the parka and squeezed him into a hug, “-You made my day, Mikeyway.”

 

Mikey groaned, his cheeks pressed tight and Carrie held him back by the shoulders, “Oh, right right, no nickname, no hugs, absolutely nothing for Mr. Immortal Teen-Don’t even smile Gerard you’re exactly the same!”

 

“Carrie-” Gerard couldn’t help his smile.

 

“I’m going to lunch now,” She gathered her things, “Please,  _do not,_ spoil this.”

 

Her umbrella opened with a  _whoosh_  and she was out the door quick, light on her feet. Gerard watched her go like he had Ray, dwelling on her words from earlier-

 

“He’s a good guy, okay?” Mikey was saying, “Ryan? I mean he tells really shitty jokes sometimes, but he’s not like Balz.”

 

“I haven’t met him, I hired Mike because we knew each other from Woodstock-”

 

“Yeah, from like one Creedence Clearwater Revival show, I’ve known Ryan for way longer!”

 

“And I haven’t!” Gerard shot back, “I just met one of them a couple weeks ago on accident, Mikey! You don’t come around with your friends so of course, I don’t like it!”

 

“He’s hired already,  _why do you even care?!”_

 

_“Because you don’t!”_

 

Gerard bared his teeth and Mikey clenched his fists.

 

“I don’t know anything about them, and from the way you talk about them, neither do you!” Gerard, “I can’t even talk to you! I don’t even know why you still talk about me like I’m your brother when you clearly don’t want me to be!”

 

“Just fuck off!”

 

“I think I’ve had a longer conversation with a Sightless than I have with _you_  in months!”

 

“You’re in confession all the time, how could I?!”

 

“Because I’m avoiding you! Ever since Miss Macy started-and-and since Father Schechter left, and she’s come after you-!”

 

“After me!?” Mikey pushed him back by his shoulders, “You should hear the shit she says about you, you goddamn moron! That’s why I snuck into her house in the first place!”

 

Gerard took a step back, “What?”

 

Mikey shut his mouth with a click.

 

“Mikey,  _what?!”_

 

“It's nothing-”

 

His anger faded fast as he stared at Mikey, buried under his done and the faux fur of his parka, “She always came after you.”

 

“I wear a big coat and walk around at night, I'm easy to categorize for her,” Mikey shrugged, “She saves the worst shit for you.”

 

“So you-” Gerard shook his head, “So you snuck… into her _house?”_

 

“I don't know!” Mikey shot back, “Maybe I could have scared her or something, I didn't mean to fall asleep in her laundry… she's such a harpy.”

 

“Oh my  _god_ , Mikey-”

 

“Don't fucking lecture me-”

 

“You broke into the Bag’s house to defend me!” Gerard couldn't keep the smile off of his face.

 

“‘Bag’ is  _so_  sixties-” Mikey choked, “No!”

 

“Shit, Mikey, don't even deny it,” He grabbed his brother by the shoulders, “She's said so much crap about you, I would have gone with you, maybe then you wouldn't have fallen asleep in her underwear.” Mikey blushed purple.

 

“So…” He picked at his nails, “Wait, what.”

 

“I was gonna give your friend the benefit of the doubt anyway,” Gerard admitted, “I thought you hated me or something.”

 

“Oh,” Mikey pulled himself into his parka, “Well, I don't.”

 

“Just give the papers to your friend, Carrie knows what she's doing, he'll be fine.” Gerard shrugged, “It's been really stressful, Ray came back before you came and there's this kid named Troye…” He thought for a second,  “I was trying to give you space.”

 

“So you're okay with Ryan working better here?” Mikey looked down and shifted on his feet.

 

“If he cleans well and doesn't sell drugs,” Gerard shrugged, “I'll suck it up.”

 

“He doesn't sell anymore, so it's cool.”

 

Gerard elbowed him out the door and he elbowed back, “I'm serious, G, it's just sitting in his garage.”

 

“Uh-huh, help me bookmark bibles for this weekend.”

 

Mikey was jogging to keep up, reminding Gerard of when they were still in school. He smiled.

 

“Garage Weed.”

 

“Sounds like an Indie band from Canada.”

 

“Would you believe that's what  _I_ said?” Mikey pushed off his coat and hung it over the back of a pew, “Damp Garage Weed, I had to ask him if he was from Jersey.”

 

Gerard began flipping through the back row of bibles, but paused, “You never talk about Jersey,” He turned to see a familiar face at the piano, “Hi, Miss Parton.”

 

“Oh, I mean,” Mikey waved at Miss Parton, “Sometimes I do.”

 

Miss Parton took the piano into a bouncing tune that Gerard could recognize from the Chicago musical and Mikey groaned. Gerard snorted and waved away his anxiety to join Miss Parton in a short song, singing in Mikey’s ear the entire time.

 

* * *

 

 

_To: rtorosau@juno.com_

_From: adminsaucounseling@sau678.org_

_Subject: RE: cancellations_

 

_Good Afternoon!_

 

_This email has been sent automatically to confirm your most_

_recent counseling session has been canceled, per your request._

_If you have received this in error, please do not hesitate to contact_

_the guidance office to reinstate your appointment._

 

_Thank you!_

_The University of Texas at San Antonio, Counseling and Guidance._

 

 

  * **_**_Discarded email, sent to Raymond Toro and ignored, San Antonio, Texas_**_**



 

 

* * *

 

Joe returned, almost unannounced, but Gerard had been feeling like he was on top of the world lately and getting mad at Joe for having a headache and leaving without a word seemed like something he would do in an alternate universe.

 

One where he was Sightless and old and grumpy.

 

“I just wanted to help out with the Steak Dinner!” Joe smiled, cautiously, and Gerard smiled back. Mikey and he had been on good terms, better than good terms because he’d gone to the gas station and brought home milk and bananas. So Gerard felt light and ready, talking to his brother again.

 

“I would love your help, Joe,” He even smiled with teeth, “We moved the Drive so you can even donate.”

 

“Anytime,” Joe sighed, relieved, “And… Hey, about…”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Gerard shook his head and wrote his name on the small list of donators. “You wanted to get out… I understand.”

 

Joe nodded, grateful.

 

They took a walk around church grounds under Gerard’s black umbrella, the day was cloudy and dim, but Joe respected the extra caution.

 

The grass was bright and green, lined with lawnmower trails up and down the yard. They circled around trees and over the thin sidewalk path to the saint garden and the small pond, just talking. Mostly it was Joe, filling Gerard in on the goings on at the gas station, the strange customers and even stranger manager. “I think he’s a werewolf,” Joe lowered his voice as if he would be overheard and Gerard corrected him.

 

“It’s lycan, remember?” Gerard pushed him by the shoulder, “Werewolf is derogatory.”

 

“Oh my god,” Joe groaned, “I mean, obviously I’m gonna respect that, but how is it derogatory?”

 

“I don’t know any Lycans, and I’m a vampire, so I have no authority on that subject,” Gerard snorted. “I just know that  _werewolf_  is  _bad_.”

 

They talked about other things for a while, random stories, and directionless chatter until the subject of Ray Toro came about and Gerard found himself spilling the details about the phone calls and how terrified he had seemed under the jokes and anxiety.

 

“I just don’t know how to help him,” Gerard led Joe to the saints garden, past flowers and statues to the stone bench near the middle, “And he seemed so alone, the counselors there can’t help him, and now Carrie is acting weird about it, all I can do is act like a preacher.”

 

“You are not acting,” Joe shot back, “‘Cause you’re an actual preacher, and you give great advice… This kid just needs someone to talk to, I mean, if no one can tell him what’s wrong with him, he must feel totally isolated…” Joe picked at his fingernails, “I think I saw him around a few times, he stole my haircut and has a blue cast right?”

 

Gerard nodded, “What was he doing?”

 

“I think he was just stopping at the station for snacks,” Joe shrugged, “But I saw him around after that, just… walking around.”

 

“He sleepwalks,” Gerard provided, “And he told me it’s getting worse.”

 

Worry etched itself onto Joe’s face, “He could get hurt if he keeps on like that.”

 

“That’s what I’m trying to prevent,” Gerard insisted, “But I can’t pry with him, I’ll sound like a creep.”

 

“Why not get someone to keep an eye on him?”  
  
“Hiring a stalker isn’t really allowed in Good Book,” Gerard rolled his eyes, trying to joke, “And in society.”

 

“Right, yeah,” Joe let the tension pass, “Hey, listen,” He paused and Gerard leaned forward slightly. “About me leaving like I did-”

“Joe, I already said,” Gerard tried to reassure him, “It’s fine.”  
  
“No, no, I know, It’s about  _why_  I left,” He messed with his hair, “I… I think, anyway, that I have… amnesia.” He said it fast like he was embarrassed, blood rushing to his face.

 

“Amnesia?” Gerard frowned, “What…” He mentally rolled his eyes at himself before he could ask Joe what he thinks he’s forgotten. “Why?”

 

“It’s just…” Joe shrugged again, tight, “I get that feeling you know? Like there’s something I should know, and I get gaps in my memory from a long time ago, like… I’m from Illinois? Wilmette and I can remember my neighborhood and stuff and then sometimes I’ll just forget, and then I’ll remember, but there have always been gaps.”

 

“Do you think it’s…” And Gerard hated even thinking of it, “Early onset Alzheimer's or something?”

 

“No, no,” Joe shook his head completely sure, “I remember stuff now, it’s just stuff from a while back,” He tilted his head, “It’s been like that for me forever so I guess I’m used to it, maybe something… traumatic, happened, and I just shut it out, I don’t know, I just wanted you to know, like, when you asked about me losing my Sightlessness, it made me think of that, and how I can’t remember stuff, that’s one I haven’t thought of for a long time and I guess I just needed to leave.”

 

Gerard nodded and readjusted his umbrella, “God, Joe…” He was at a loss for a moment, “Thanks for telling me… Something like that.”

 

Joe smiled, “Honestly, I don’t even think about it anymore, I could just have a bad memory, or just have some stuff missing, you know I’m a ‘live  _in the now’_ kind of guy.”

 

Gerard snorted, “You complain about stuff from six months ago.”

 

“I didn’t get to say what I wanted to say then!” Joe defended, “Do you want me to donate blood or not? Because I don’t like your tone!” The tense discussion dissipated into ribbing and jokes until Carrie had appeared holding her coat over her head.

 

“Staying out of the sun?” Joe smiled and Gerard twisted his umbrella to accommodate her.

 

“Haha,” Carrie gave his ankle a soft kick. “I just came out to tell you that Ryan Sitkowski is here, remember the friend Mikey mentioned?”

 

“The one getting Mike’s job?”

 

“Woah, Woah,” Joe stopped them, “Mike quit?”

 

Carrie winced, “More or less, he just kind of left.”

 

“We had a fight,” Gerard said, “I think it might’ve been my fault.”

 

Carrie tsked, “So do you want to meet him?”

 

“Yeah, I’ve never met any of Mikey’s friends besides Balz,” Gerard followed her back inside, “Hopefully he’ll be…” He searched for a good word to use to describe Balz but he found there weren’t many available, “You know.”

 

“He’s been very polite,” Carrie soothed, “For a Freshie.” She looked back at him with a joking smile and Gerard huffed out a laugh.

 

“Hey, Joe,” He looked back, “Did you want to…?”

 

“Nah, it’s okay,” Joe began to walk back down another hallway, “I’m gonna raid your fridge.”

 

“Don’t get excited, all we have is skim milk and bananas.”

 

“And they tell stories of a vampire’s insatiable hunger,” Joe rolled his eyes as he turned away, disappearing around a corner.

 

“Him and Mikey are in the office,” Carrie continued, “Talking about some internet thing, I didn’t stay to listen, you’ll probably know what.” She laughed, “Or not.”

 

Ryan’s back was to Gerard as they entered the church office, him and Mikey laughing about nothing in particular as they waited. His hair was long, thin and past his shoulders, he was broader than Mikey, and had a perpetual movement to him, always tapping his fingers or shaking his head.

 

Mikey smiled as they entered, “G, this is Ryan!” He motioned to his friend, “Ryan this is my brother, Gerard.”

 

Ryan held out his hand, which was gloved with a thick winter mitten, he blushed a dark purple and pulled them off, “The Preacher, yeah,” He smiled through his embarrassment and Gerard smiled, “Gotta avoid the sun somehow… Mikey’s told me a lot about you.” He held the mittens tight in his fist and Gerard nodded.

 

“I get it,” They shook hands, “Even on a cloudy day.”

 

“So we read your application,” Carrie shook his hand after Gerard, “Well, I read it, and I think you’re qualified.” She smiled, with teeth, and Mikey snorted.

 

“Only because you’re the only one who applied.”

 

“I heard,” Ryan nodded, “But, I swear, I’ll take it seriously, I need the money, like, yesterday, I can’t keep rooming with Balz and Ricky in an apartment that smells like roadkill.”

 

“Balz doesn’t shower,” Mikey added sympathetically, “At least I haven’t _known_  him to shower.” Ryan rolled his eyes.

 

“I’m gonna write everything up,” Carrie laughed, “We’ll get you to a clean place in no time, Mikey can you help me out? Oh! Gerard, why not take him on a tour? Tell him about all the  _problem areas?”_ She quirked her brow snidely and Gerard hesitated.

 

“Um… He glanced at Mikey, who shrugged, unhelpfully, “Sure… Ryan… How about you follow me?” Ryan smiled and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

They walked in silence for a while, Gerard blanching on anything to say except: “Here’s the bathroom in this area,” and, “Here’s the handicap bathroom in this area… They’re like the first ones people see, so maybe pay those more mind than the other ones.”

 

Ryan nodded and clicked his tongue and walked backward, his teeth, from what Gerard could see, were thin and long, the bottom canines crossing to rest on the top and vise versa. Like the seadevil from Finding Nemo, or something.

 

“So… Ryan,” Gerard crossed his arms over his chest as they entered the recreational hallway, where all the support groups and kids clubs met. “What do you and Mikey do when you hang out?”

 

“Oh, um…” Ryan looked around at the plastic tables and chairs, “Talk, mostly, see movies, if it’s just the two of us… If Vinny and Balz are around, we kinda just hang out, walk around, and Vinny likes to burn trash but that’s just him, Ricky doesn’t show up much, but he’s got a nice car so we drive around.”

 

“And Chris?” Gerard frowned, remembering the name from when Balz had interrupted their Ghostbusters viewing party not so long ago.

 

“Oh, Chris…um…” Ryan’s face twisted strangely, “Chris kinda just does what he wants, I don’t know.”

 

“And he’s okay?” Gerard leaned back against the wall, wanting to press but not knowing what to press for, “I heard he had a blackout.”

 

“What? Oh, yeah, he’s fine, he does that shit all the time,” Ryan shrugged, then winced, covering his mouth, “Sorry, Preacher.”

 

“You’re fine,” Gerard sighed, “So, obviously you won’t need to clean every room, every night, Mike was a Changeling that didn’t need to sleep and he thought it was too much work.”

 

“So just-” Ryan shifted out of balance from Gerard’s redirect, “So just prioritize high traffic spots, and rooms that I know are gonna be used more?”

 

Gerard nodded, “Yeah, but don’t ignore rooms just ‘cause they aren’t used, just dust and vacuum from time to time.”

 

Ryan nodded, “Got it… anything else I should know? Special stuff to pay attention to?”

 

Gerard thought about it for a second, then stopped, looking toward the library and the kitchen. “Actually… If you’re gonna be hired, I might as well show you.”

 

Ryan perked, “Show me what?”

 

“It’s not something you need to clean all that often, but I guess if you’re working here you could wipe everything down from time to time, I mean, yeah obviously the kitchen should be cleaned every week, not a hard scrub or anything, just mop, and stuff, but…” Gerard led him to the back of the kitchen, internally asking himself what the hell he was doing, but stopped when he reached a door. Silver, like a walk-in freezer, and locked with a number keypad. “Here you should just go in once or twice, wipe it down, make sure it’s sanitary.”

 

“What is it?” Ryan asked, his voice layered with curiosity and a thin veil of fear that comes with someone showing you a walk-in refrigerator and you’ve seen enough movies to know there was definitely a dead body in it. And if there wasn’t, you were most likely going to be the dead body.

 

At the same time, Gerard figured he had already guessed what it was.

 

“The code is easy,” Gerard turned to punch it in, “Eleven, nine, zero, one.”

 

“11-9-0-1,” Ryan repeated.  

 

The door opened to a small concrete staircase, chilled so that Gerard could feel it through his shoes. “Father Schechter had it put in long before we ever showed up,” He nodded for Ryan to follow, “Still gotta keep it clean though.”

 

“Yeah, but what-” Ryan froze at the bottom of the staircase, “Is it.”

 

Gerard smiled slyly.

 

Pushed against the wall in neat rows, glass cabinets stood filled with metal racks. Each cabinet was locked, the key back in Father Schechter’s office. The cabinets that were empty were left unlocked, and the locked cabinets, pushed near the back, we're filled with-

 

“Oh,” Ryan Sitkowski blinked his way out of a small trance, “I mean it's not that much but...Oh.”

 

“Doesn't really matter if you're hungry or not I guess,” Gerard shrugged, “Blood is kinda hypnotizing.”

 

It was only a few dozen, but the medical bags were full of blood, organized by type or by the family who donated, and Gerard tried to ignore how hungry he was.

 

“I don't want to sound like some Pre-Association Law Lestat, but that's kinda beautiful.”

 

Gerard snorted, “Lestat… try not to go dark now, Steak Dinner is soon, you can grab a bite then, but right now…” Gerard led him to the unlocked cabinets, “The dinner is doubling as a Blood Drive.”

 

“Right, because of Mikey,” Ryan tore his gaze away from the blood, “How legal is this?”

 

“Sketchy at best, but who would know to ask?” Gerard waved his hands dismissively, “Before the dinner you need to disinfect these cabinets.”

 

“And I get fired if I take from the register?” Ryan joked, gesturing at the blood.

 

“That blood is for the parish,” Gerard frowned, not seeing it as a joke, “You take it I’d do more than fire you, I’d threaten you with a visit to the Night Children if I even believed in that crap.” An empty threat, but not without stock behind it. The Night Children were a sort of urban legend for vampires, a group of ancients from some lost culture, they probably didn't exist, in Gerard’s opinion, and when people mentioned them it was to invoke some sort of rule from an ancient vampire code. Gerard had met a lot of vampires that only cared for themselves, stole without any thought to any else, so if the Night Children were real, they weren't good at their jobs.

 

Ryan shook his head with a laugh, “I swear, I wouldn’t-”

 

“I really don’t know that,” Gerard interrupted, “No offense to you and especially not to Mikey, I don’t know you, but this parish is all good people, they deserve to be taken care of, you understand me?” He looked pointedly at Ryan, who shuffled in place.

 

He swallowed and wrung his hand, looking away, “Yeah, yeah I understand.”

 

Gerard paused, giving him a long look before nodding, “Good… Good, let’s get out of here, Carrie probably wants your signature before you can back out.”

 

Ryan snorted lightly, “Yeah, no doubt,” Eager to diffuse the tension.

 

He met Joe back in the office.

 

“So you’re…” Ryan squinted.

 

“Former Sightless, now an Eccentric,” Joe waved his hand in a mock bow, “Joe Trohman, gas station attendee.”

 

“Oh, yeah!” Ryan jammed his pointer finger at him, “That place on West.”

 

“I’m sure Mikey told you all about me,” Joe smiled, handing Ryan a pen as Carrie passed the documents over the counter. “Or he didn’t, either way… Either  _Way_ , I’m the coolest person they know.” Gerard snorted and Mikey punched him in the arm.

 

“So you know your way around?” Carrie smiled.

 

“Uh…” Ryan signed his name in looping letters, “Sort of? I think I’ll get the hang of it, I know what I need to clean at least.”

 

“It’s good you can start right away,” Carrie nodded, “These boys can barely keep their apartment clean, and we have the Steak Dinner soon, I want everything to be… sanitary.”

 

“Yeah, no doubt, no doubt,” Ryan began to shove the mittens back on and zipped up his jacket, “I’ll start off tomorrow… and, sorry, what was the code again?”

 

“11-9-0-1,” Gerard reminded and Mikey jerked back to look at Ryan.

 

Ryan only smiled and saluted with two fingers, “See you, Mikeyway.” Mikey gave him a robotic wave and they watched Ryan leave. Then Gerard asked:

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“What?” Mikey asked, louder than usual.

 

Gerard smiled, ridiculous, “What’s wrong? I gave him the code so he could clean the fridge.”

 

“Oh,” Mikey looked away, “Nothing.”

 

“Nothing, yeah,” Joe flipped through a magazine he’d stolen from Carrie’s desk, “Twitching like Carrie.”

 

Mikey huffed and left to the apartment, Gerard tapped his fingers on the counter.

 

“So,” Carrie wheeled her chair around, smiling pridefully, “Think he’s a hooligan or does he pass?”

 

“He… Seems a lot tamer than Mikey’s other friends,” Gerard bobbed his head, “I mean I’ve only met Balz, who looks crazier than a bag of cats, but he’s nice… I like him.”

 

Carrie threw her arms in the air, triumphant, “Ha!”

 

“We needed someone to clean, so we got someone to clean,” Gerard rolled his eyes, “Whatever.”

 

“Whatever,” Carrie repeated, high and mighty, she crossed her arms.

 

“Seems like a nice guy,” Joe said, “You said he was Fresh-Turned?”

 

“Just a newbie, but he was turned a while back, like me.” Carrie answered.

 

“Mikey and I are some of the oldest in San Antonio,” Gerard nodded, “A lot of our parish is Fresh, but Texas is pretty vampire heavy.”

 

“Why is that?” Joe asked. “Do you think.”

 

Carrie shrugged.

 

“The Guild likes to say it’s a high density area because of how much magic or how many portals there are,” Gerard leaned against the counter, “More places for ghosts to enter and exit, or witches have done more ceremonies, Mr. Cash knows a lot more than me, but it’s like… The sheet that divides Sightless from… Everything else is thinner, so people like us are drawn here, it’s easier to hide in plain sight, easier to be ourselves.”

 

Carrie nodded and spoke through a bite of salad, “People are always like, ‘Oh, it’s the ley lines, blah blah blah,’ but I mean, it’s  _not,_  magic doesn’t have some pattern or intention.” Gerard looked over at her.

 

“Where’d you hear that?”

 

“Friends in the Guild.”

 

“You have  _friends_ in the Guild?!” Joe sputtered, “Don’t they like, hunt vampires?”

 

“Nah,” Carrie shook her head, “They’re not some elite strike team, they look out for people, hunting is just easier to say, they keep order.”

 

“So…” Joe struggled with something for a moment, “How do you know you’re drawn somewhere? Were you and Mikey drawn to San Antonio?”

 

Gerard thought about it, “I guess so, we just wanted someplace safe, we followed our instincts when we were on the run, or homeless I guess, our instincts led us to Texas.”

 

Joe hummed, “You guess.”

 

“All I know is, when we got here, Our Lady of Thorns was waiting for us, doors open.”

 

* * *

 

_“Wish you would answer your phone, sir,_

_but San Antonio is going great, if you wanted_

_a check in. You always say skip the details_

_so I will, but there’s a lot of activity like you said._

_We made a few plans, new ideas, you’ll love it,_

_I think we have something you’ve never seen before._

 

 

  * ****Phone call made from pay phone to somewhere outside of the United States, San Antonio, Texas****



 

 

* * *

 

After just two days, the church seemed cleaner, which was good, because that was why Carrie had hired a janitor in the first place. But even with Ryan Sitkowski around, Mikey seemed more distant, frustrating Gerard to no end.

 

Mikey and Ryan could usually be seen together, with Mikey even helping with cleaning and when night fell they left together. Most likely driving to the nearest Blockbuster to hang out in the alley behind it. For Gerard, the sudden separation made the two days last for four weeks.

 

“He's hanging out with his friend! Don't think he wants to be around you all day,” Carrie scoffed when he moped into the office. Joe agreed.

 

“You  _have_ been hanging around me all day,” Gerard shot back.

 

“A whole day I'll never get back,” Joe lounged in one of the rolling chairs, “Which is a joke, you're awesome, but he's your kid brother that likes to loiter outside grocery stores and wear a parka in the summer, he's angsty.”

 

“Are you implying that Gerard isn't?” Carrie asked, incredulous.

 

“No way! Gerard is the most angsty, but he's also stressed, Steak Dinner is tonight, I'm sticking around to help out, by the way, I'll even donate.”

 

Gerard leaned heavily against the counter, “Thanks, Joe.”

 

Joe gave him a thumbs up.

 

“Ryan’s done a really good job as far as I can see,” Carrie gestured to the office, “Clean and fresh, so we know Mikey isn’t an issue anyway.”

 

“God, I won’t make it,” Gerard fell against the counter and covered his face, “I should just cancel, Macy’ll catch us, we’re doomed-”

 

“Shut the hell up, like right now,” Carrie hit her palm against the desk, “I’m serious, if you want to stress me out more, go outside and pretend your hair is gonna protect you from the sun.”

“It is thick enough,” Joe poked him, “Right, bad time, it’s gonna go great, and no one cares about the date change or the secrecy, okay? As if they have any problems keeping secrets.”

 

That wasn’t what concerned Gerard, and as night fell he still wasn’t sure.

 

The streetlights flickered on and a small and official looking truck pulled into the parking lot, honking its horn once. Gerard could hear Carrie shout through the window as he watched, yelling happily as she ran out in her flip flops to greet the two nurses. They yelled back at the same pitch and he turned to straighten his clerical.

 

Carrie had this habit of savoring things, even things that didn’t need to be savored.

 

The intercom, which had been hooked up again, along with the new phone, was one of them. She had once told Gerard that she couldn’t just ‘be the voice from above, _in a church!_ ’, so she hardly ever used it. Father Schechter was exactly the opposite, and Gerard could remember him walking into the office as him and Carrie were talking, leaning over the counter and grabbing the phone from under Carrie’s nose. He had put his lips as close to the receiver as possible and said: _“Michael. James. Way. If you do not clean up after yourself… I will… Cut down your pointy ears myself and God will look down upon me and say that He meant it happen and that it is good, and it will be.”_

 

Gerard snorted as the intercom turned on with a beep.

 

“ _Gerard! Get your butt to the office!_ ” She laughed at something the nurses said and continued, “ _Nat and Martie are here!_ ”

 

Nat, or Natalie, if Gerard wanted to get punched, and Martie were two of the Guild’s registered nurses and two of Carrie’s closest friends. Former Sightless who worked at the hospital that had been observed by the Guild and recruited after what Gerard had assumed to be a rigorous training process, only being given evidence of the real world little bits at a time before they were approved and became Eccentrics; Truly able to See what they were working toward.

 

They were good nurses, and people, and Gerard had never felt uneasy around them, as he did with a great many Eccentrics.

 

They were both around Carrie’s age, without the immortality, obviously, and both of them always had something to say.

 

“Gerard!” Martie laughed, “I see you have completely ignored the shower gift basket I got you last year, good, that’s just what I planned for, you can regift it to me so I can use those cute little soaps.”

 

Gerard frowned, aghast, “I used the shampoo and conditioner.”

 

“Ouch, told you Martie” Nat pursed her lips, “The grease can’t be beat, except with maybe...Witchcraft, or something.”

 

“Not even,” Carrie chewed a fingernail, trying not to laugh.

 

“I didn’t come here to be insulted.” Gerard huffed, miffed that they were continuing to gang up on him.

 

“Oh, of course not, poor baby,” Martie smiled, “Help me set up in the library, I’ll hand you equipment.”

 

Miss Parton and a few others on the church committee soon arrived with the food, the Allman brothers each bumping into Gerard on the way to the kitchen where they had left a few marinating steaks a few hours before. They all greeted him kindly, and without teasing aside for Cass Elliot, who worked with Ms. Parton on the adult choir. “You are still so cute! Where is that skinny brother of yours? Or did the wind finally pick up and blow him away?”

 

Gerard blushed and scratched at his head, “He’ll um… He’ll be around Ms. Elliot, we’ll see him once this whole thing gets started.”

 

Ms. Elliot tapped her nose and followed the Allman’s, fangs shining as she smiled: “That’s Mama Cass to you!”

 

Mr. Cash had come early, skulking in the corner.

 

Gerard stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded in greeting.

 

Mr. Cash nodded back.

 

Then surprised Gerard by walking over, asking: “How are you, Preacher?”

 

“Good, thank you, Mr. Cash,” Gerard blinked, “Can I ask why you’re so early? I don’t want to pry.”

 

“Helping Dolly load up a few things,” He tilted his head at Ms. Parton as she directed the Allman’s into how to set up the food. “I heard what happened with Miss Macy.”

 

“Oh, yeah, you can thank my brother for that one,” Gerard chuckled, “He was trying to get back at her for some stuff she said about me.” Mr. Cash grunted, and Gerard couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or something to bookmark the conversation with.

 

“This was a good fix.” His tone remained neutral, but Gerard swelled.

 

“Hey, can I ask you-”

 

“Oh Gerard!” A voice exploded behind them, “Gerard, Gerard, Gerard!”

 

Gerard turned, smiling wide, “Hey! Mark!”

 

Mark Hoppus clapped him on the shoulder and Mr. Cash was gone.

 

Tables were set up as more families arrived, and more Eccentrics connected to the vampires in their lives, many greeted Gerard with enthusiasm, sharing stories and thanks until the room became loud and hot. The two double doors near the back of the library were opened and the night breeze fluttered through, lifting napkins and Gerard’s hair as he settled in.

 

“Hey, kid,” Another man tapped his shoulder and Gerard smiled in return.

 

“Mr. Barry!” They shook hands, “You’re back! What brings you in?”

 

“Taking advantage of the services,” Chuck Barry laughed as if he hadn’t left town just a few months ago under mysterious circumstances. “Hard to get a solid meal on the road, it’s good to be back.”

 

“I hadn’t even heard about your return,” Gerard tried not to sound accusatory, “Could I ask… where you were?”

 

Chuck waved his hand dismissively, “Just here and there, odd jobs,” Gerard frowned deeper until Chuck grabbed his shoulder, “Say! I was gonna ask if it’s okay to take a bag for the road, just two or three, I’m not leaving yet, but I wanted to snag a few of your friend’s… what’s his name… Joe! His blood is great, can’t believe I haven’t had it before.”

 

“What-” Gerard blinked, smiling incredulous, “What do mean?”

 

“It’s just good blood, how do I describe it?” Chuck shrugged, “It’s filling? Tastes great with Cholula? Have a bite, he’s a great guy, I’m sure he’ll let you.” Chuck’s smile was teasing but it made him queasy.

 

“Yeah, maybe I’ll have some later.”

 

Chuck tilted his head, “And thanks by the way, it’s nice of you to keep this up without Father Schechter’s help.”

 

“There are families here,” Gerard shrugged, “They deserve the help, and to understand what’s going on.”

 

Gerard spotted Mikey over Chuck’s shoulder and quickly excused himself.

 

He dodged past a few more families and tried to wave to his brother as he talked with a few guests, he laughed at something and Gerard huffed in frustration as Mama Cass tapped his shoulder to ask a question. When he turned back, Mikey was gone.

 

“Hey!” A voice from behind startled Gerard halfway to the ceiling, grabbing onto a nearby shoulder to keep himself from launching into the air.

 

“Oh, sorry!” He turned to the owner of the shoulder, apologetic, “Sorry, Ma’am, Mrs. Cabello-”

 

“It’s fine Preacher, say, Camilla was just asking about you-!”

 

“I’m so sorry, may we talk later?” Gerard whipped around to Ryan, who was blushing a heavy purpl.

 

“Sorry, Preacher…” He smiled, bashful.

 

“Uh-huh,” Gerard pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

Ryan gave him an embarrassed look, “Yeah sorry, hey listen, I was wondering if I could grab a table, and I know just started working but-”

 

Gerard still had his hand braced on his chest, trying to calm his heart, “Ryan, it’s fine, community effort… Just don’t… Scare me like that again, seriously.” Ryan nodded, sheepish.

 

“Thank you, and hey, you know your Sightless friend? He’s supposed to have some really good blood, or I mean, everyone says that… I’m hoping to get a taste, do you think it’s worth it?”

 

Gerard blinked and shrugged awkwardly, letting Ryan excuse himself. After a few more ‘hello’s’ and ‘welcome’s’, he was ready to step out, maybe for forever. Until Mikey was pushed into his shoulder by accident, the fur on the hood of his parka hitting him in the face.

 

“Wow, thanks.”

 

Mikey snorted and Gerard eyed the empty cup in his hands.

 

“I was just helping Ryan out, but Carrie got on me for not talking to anyone else.”

 

“I didn’t mind, I’m not turning into Mom or anything,” Gerard shrugged, “But hey if Carrie’s getting on you about it-”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Mikey shrugged dismissively, “It’s not a huge thing, I mean I know I haven’t talked much to either of you all week, but she did kinda roast me though.”

 

“Did she ask for my collar?”

 

“What?”

 

“Because she’s taking my job.”

 

Mikey snorted again and murmered, “Maybe you should actually be good at them then.”

 

 _“What?”_  Gerard couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

 

Mikey mimed looking for people over his shoulders, “Who said that?” Then Mikey stopped his laughter, “I do have a question though, really quick.”

 

“Oh, yeah, what?”

 

“Is  _all_ this going to us? Or to the hospital?” He gestured with the cup.

 

Gerard frowned, “Well… Some, yeah, but our agreement was made by Brian with the Guild, and he said it wouldn’t be an issue if it went to where it’s needed, so I guess it goes to the hospital and then another portion goes to us, for the Steak Dinner, if we didn’t double up like we did tonight,” Mikey blushed like Ryan, deep purple, “Father Schechter would go all Godfather and ask why the sudden interest since you usually just show up”

 

Mikey rolled his eyes, “Yeah, because I can’t wait to get involved with the Guild, I just wanted to ask-um… How  _much_ of it goes to us?”

 

“As in altogether, or just for us?”

 

Mikey shrugged, “I’m just asking, ‘cause isn’t it kinda illegal?”

 

Gerard scratched at his scalp and yawned, “Guess… It depends who’s asking, and it’s through the Guild, Nat, and Martie-”

 

“Whatever,” Mikey shook his head, “Forget I asked.” He took a step back, a strange look on his face. “Carrie wanted to see you, by the way.”

 

“Hey, what-!” Gerard grabbed for Mikey as he dodged back into the crowd, a grin snaking its way up his face, “Mikey!” Like a wraith, Mikey disappeared with some dumb look on his face that Gerard mocked for half a second, then cast a desperate look at the glowing green Exit sign hanging above the library door.

 

Ms. Parton quickly caught up to him as he turned dejectedly back to the kitchen. “Hey, sugar! Have you tried the Allman’s steak yet?”

 

“Oh, uh, no I just wait for the leftovers,” Gerard shrugged, knowing Mama Cass would somehow get some into their barren fridge. Ms. Parton nodded happily.

 

“Still sad about the Blood Drive, but it’s fun when we all eat together,” She guided him to talk in the kitchen and gestured over to a rowdier group of men, “Mark has his fun anyway!” She laughed at the few local vampires crowded, strangely, around Joe.

 

Gerard frowned and took a step, maybe about to defend Joe’s honor, before Ms. Parton laid a hand on his shoulder, “It’s just a little joke, Preacher, see that cup? Mark has his fun when he can stop by but Brian always stopped him before so you’ve never seen it, it’s probably Joe’s own blood in that cup.” She chuckled, putting Gerard at ease only slightly, “Just the last little sip, Mark must have split the pint with Chuck.” They watched Joe point at the cup, then point at himself, the group laughed loudly in response. Mark nodded excitedly.

 

Ms. Parton smiled, “Question is, is he actually gonna do it?”

 

“Seriously?”

“People always get curious,” She nodded, “See how the other half lives I guess, Eccentrics always have to ask, Mark just likes to get a laugh out of it,” Mark raised his finger, coaxing Joe further, “Boys will be boys, besides, nothing happens from just one sip, it’s only dangerous if they get hooked.” Gerard nodded absently and she turned to speak with Mama Cass. Joe steeled himself before bringing the cup to his lips, the group surrounding him leaned in with toothy smiles.

 

The taste contorted Joe’s face when he conceded, and quickly pushed the cup back at Mark. The group cheered, loud and boisterous laughing to contrast Joe as he shook his head, pointing a finger down his throat. Mark clapped him on the back, eyes turning black as he finished off the cup. Gerard shook his head.

 

“Hey,” He taps Ms. Parton on the shoulder, still watching Joe gag at the tiny taste of his own blood, “Have you seen Carrie?”

 

“Huh? Oh, over by the doors, sweetie.”

 

He finally spotted her conversing with an Eccentric on her way out, who conveniently said her goodbyes as they spotted each other.

 

“How’s everything going?” Carrie asked as he drew near.

 

“Good, I’m hoping,” Gerard shrugged, “Everyone’s been saying it’s good.” He leaned on the wall next to her, tugging at his clerical collar.

 

“Relax. I’ve only gotten compliments,” She smiled, pausing for a second, “You know I almost had to recruit a small army to get you over here.”

 

“Yeah sorry, listen, if I’ve done anything or Mikey-”

 

Carrie put her hand up to silence him, “It’s nothing like that, don’t worry…” She shuffled, “I wanted to see you about me.”

 

Gerard tilted his head, “Like a confession?”

 

“More like… I’m telling you something personal because you’re my friend.”

 

Gerard squeezed his lips together to fight back a smile.

 

Carrie sighed, “So, you know I’ve been working late, and not… you know?”

 

Gerard nodded, “I didn’t want to make it a thing.”

 

“And thank you for that!” She smiled, “But… I wasn’t being very fair to you.”

 

“No, no,” Gerard furrowed his brow, “You don’t owe me anything.”

 

“You’re the best, honestly… I mean who would understand? Granted you might not either, but I  _need_ to tell you, so just stop looking at me like that.” He crossed his arms and gave her an assuring nod.

 

“Right.”

 

“Alright,” She sucked in a breath. “They’ve been doing construction by my house, which isn’t really a problem, it’s not even loud, but they’re doing something underground with the sewers or whatever… And on the other side of my house… Like I could open up my back window and I could glide out and land in a graveyard.”

 

“I’ve been, it’s beautiful.”

 

“Right?!” Carrie said, “Those tombstones have more craftsmanship put into them than my fancy guest bathroom!” She splutters and waves her hands, “Anyway,” She waved goodbye to a family and their teenage son, and Gerard remembered being present as Father Schechter had counseled him on what it would mean to look 16 forever. “So… There’s construction, and after it started, I started… Hearing voices.”

 

Gerard shifted his feet, “Voices.”

 

She gave him a pained look, “And… I think they’re from the graveyard, whenever I go home, it doesn’t matter where I go in my house, I can’t sleep.”

 

Gerard wondered what face he could make to display the fact that he  _was not_  weirded out. “What-What…. What do they say?”

 

She swallowed, “I don’t… I don’t want to listen,” She wrapped her arms around her torso, “But it’s scared,  _confused_ ; Just loud and desperate, and I can’t escape it.”

 

They both stood for a moment amidst awkward silence, Gerard searching fruitlessly for some sort of answer for her, and watched Mikey speak animatedly to Ms. Parton. They met eyes for a second and Mikey gave him a half nod and a stupid half smile that made him look like a college frat boy. Gerard snorted quietly and returned the nod with a small wave. Carrie repeated the action, then crossed her arms over her torso.

 

“I don’t know if I’m going crazy, or… Something else.”

 

Gerard picked at his fingernails, “I wish Father Schechter was here, I don’t know what he would’ve said-”

 

“I want to know what  _you_ would say, Gerard,” Carrie stopped him, “That’s why I’m telling you.”

 

Gerard wondered if his blush was as obvious as he thought, but Carrie didn’t seem to notice. He fiddled with his clerical and continued.

 

“I think…” He cast another glance to Mikey and then to Joe, then back to Carrie, “I don’t think you’re going crazy, not at all, with the kind of world we live in… It’s always going to be hard to tell the difference, between what’s in our minds and what’s real, and it’s even more difficult when we’re surrounded by the Sightless.”

 

Carrie bit her lip. “And what if you’re wrong? What if it is my mind?”

 

“Then Mikey and I will do everything we can to help you, even if he’s been weird, no hesitation.”

 

She huffed a short laugh, “Yeah,” Gerard pulled off his clerical and set it aside.

 

“So what do I do? I can’t sleep anymore, not with all the noise.”

 

“I think something is out there, and it trusts you, in a way, enough that it, whether it’s some lost spirit or entity, it’s reaching out to you. You said that it sounded scared and confused?” Gerard asked and she nodded. “Then maybe it finds you to be a source of balance or a beacon… There’s a homily, something that Father Schechter told, about hearing a call to do good, and be a source of good, even if it seems no one else can hear it,” He blushed again, realizing that he was suddenly holding a service for her. “I guess… We live in this kind of world, and it’s violent and different from anything the Sightless will ever understand, it’s bloody and weird… and I guess when that’s the case, we should try and be good,” He grinned, “Good like hiring Ryan Sitkowski even though your Preacher is really territorial or good like looking out for two idiot brothers even though you only met them because your whole life was changed by someone who wasn’t.”

 

“Good like holding the entire world on your shoulders?” Carrie cut in, “And setting up an entirely new event just to protect your brother from an entire Parish who definitely would storm him if they knew what he did?”

 

Gerard blinked and mumbled, “Maybe.” He shuffled, “Anyway I think that’s what he said, but it was probably more Catholic and metaphorical.”

 

Carrie smoothed her hair behind her ears, “I get it, I don’t get why you think you’re not good at this though, father Schechter knew what he was doing, leaving you in charge.”

 

Gerard scratched at his hair, “So you’ll… you’re gonna try and head home?”

 

She nodded, “I’ll try and give the voice a listen, maybe that’s all it wants.”

 

He nodded, relieved, and the night dragged on.

 

Mama Cass did finally push him out as the night drew to a close, along with Mikey, who protested as she mussed with his hair. The Allman’s waved off Gerard’s attempts to help clean up saying: “We wouldn’t even let Schechter help, man, you guys are accident prone, plus you already set this all up, let us take it down.”

 

Gerard relented as Mikey let loose a yawn.

 

“Yeah, thank you guys, I need to help Mikey walk all the way back, he might not make it.”

 

Mikey punched him in the arm as hard as he could, “I’m not a  _drunk.”_

 

Gerard shoved him back and let himself fall in step with him, waving back at them, thankful. Walking back in the dark through the windowless hallways, Mikey pushed him with his shoulder, his eyes reflecting strange orbs of yellow light, Gerard pushed him back.

 

“Told you, you’re wasted.”

 

Mikey snorted.

 

“I’m kind of an asshole, I forgot to say ‘thanks’, or whatever.”

 

“Or whatever,” Gerard smiled, “You don’t have to.”

 

“Yeah,” He tugged the parka up around his shoulders, “I’m still the dumbass kid brother that fell asleep in her laundry room.”

 

Gerard unlocked the door to their apartment, “In her  _unmentionables,_ by accident, I hope.”

 

Blood rushed to Mikey’s face and he rushed to his room, pulling an even nastier face. Gerard listened to his bedroom door slam, the Smashing Pumpkins poster flapping, then yelled: “You’re welcome!”

 

Mikey said something Gerard couldn’t really hear but didn’t sound angry, and Gerard snorted.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Hi mom…”_

_“Oh, yeah, yeah I know, I’m sorry…_

_I’ve been having trouble sleeping. Just_

_nightmares and stuff, I don’t know…”_

_“Yeah, of course mom, I know, I know.”_

_“Just stressed, but I do, I love the class.”_

_“...No...no, I love you too mom...mhm…_

_yeah... Love you...bye.”_

 

  * **Phone call from Ray Toro to his mother, San Antonio, Texas**



 

* * *

 

He was later drawn from his warm bed at 2:30 in the morning and hoped his heavy sigh would drive whoever it was away. They knocked again.

 

“Fuck…” He whined, shuffling out of his pitch-dark bedroom his pajamas, a loose t-shirt he’d had since the nineties and some red drawstring pants Father Schechter had gifted him last Christmas. He squinted in the blue light from the window in the living room, across the hall to Mikey’s door, the Smashing Pumpkins poster perpetually screaming at him.

 

The door to the church was the guilty party this time, instead of the heavy metal door to the outside world.

 

Another knock and Gerard reached back into his room to grab his suit jacket from the floor. “What?” he asked, his voice coming out as a rasp.

 

It was one of the Allmans, Duane.

 

“Sorry to wake you, Preacher.” He winced, his eyes trailing to look at the nest of Gerard’s hair, sticking up and curling at odd angles.

 

He yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “‘S fine,” Even though it kind of wasn’t, “What’s up?”

 

“You got a visitor,” Duane said, holding the door open as he shuffled past, “But he’s not comin’ in, just sittin’ out there.”

The grogginess had dissipated in an instant, “Really?”

 

“Yeah, maybe a college kid or something-” Gerard smoothed down his hair and straightened his clothes the best he could. “-Me and Gregg were gonna go out and see what’s up but suppose he bolts? Best you go we thought, if he’s hanging around a church there’s only one person he’s gonna want to talk to.”

 

“Right,” Gerard nodded, mind racing, “Yes, thank you.”

 

They fast walked the rest of the way back, with Gerard wondering, hoping, the entire way that Ray Toro had come, and maybe awake, instead of one of his impenetrable spells, and if he was, what could he be saying, and would the Allman’s think?

 

The library was a bright beacon at the end of the hall, some tables and chairs not yet packed. The Allman’s had been working slow or had caught a drink with Chuck and Mr. Cash and maybe even Ms. Parton and Mama Cass. It was a talk that Father Schechter would always stay for, and then wave off if Gerard ever asked him about it, “Just some ancients complaining, kid.”

 

So Gerard was still stuck at the little kid’s table.

 

Now the tables were stacked and the coffee machine percolating in the kitchen, Gerard nodded hello to Gregg and turned, nervous, toward the door, anxious to see Ray Toro’s blank and haunted face.

 

Instead.

 

He breathed.

 

Troye’s lean figure and light curly hair sat hunched on the curb outside the church.

 

“Think he’ll be a bit more open to you than our goofy lookin’ faces.” Gregg crossed his arms.

 

Gerard gave Troye’s back a hesitant smile, “Yeah… Yeah, I’ll figure it out.” He gave them both a nod in thanks and cast a glance to where he had left his clerical a few hours earlier, sitting next to a small cooler.

 

A small sticky note on the side read: ‘Heading home! Drink up!’ In Carrie’s handwriting. Gerard smiled before grabbing a bag and stepping outside.

 

“How’s it going?”

 

Troye looked back at him briefly over his shoulder, then twisted his hands together and sighed. For a moment he looked out at the parking lot, at the Allman’s truck parked under the glowing lamp, then watched Gerard as he sat down beside him.

 

Gerard waited in silence, the bag on the ground beside him.

 

Troye shrugged, shaking his head, “I don’t know how to do this.”

 

“Which part?”

 

“All of it,” Troye answered.

 

“Neither does anyone else,” Gerard breathed in the cold air and watched a few fireflies dance in the distance.

 

“I don’t know if that’s really comforting,” Troye wiped at his eyes before the blood welling in them could fall, “Not anymore.”

 

Gerard gave him a sad look, picking at the ends of his pajama pants. “How did it happen?”

 

Troye paused, pressing his thumb into his palm and tracing the lines, “... A few months ago, after I moved in and I was settled… I wanted to go out and have fun, and there was this club, _Heat,_ just somewhere close and we went together but got separated, and I swear I was careful, but I ended up outside-I swear to God I wouldn’t-”

 

“I know,” Gerard nodded, “Just… what happened next?”

 

“I think we were out there because a guy had weed and it was supposed to be really good, like some Northern California shit that like… Ryan Seacrest would smoke or something.” He smiled at the memory, “And the music was pounding through the walls and there was this queen out there making everybody laugh…” His smile shrank, “And then… It gets blurry like everything was fast and slow at once.”

 

Gerard had flashbacks to his house in 1962, the radio going and Mikey in the kitchen, singing along until he suddenly wasn’t.

 

“There was a guy.” Troye finally continued. “He had lots of makeup on, and I only remember that because it was dark around his eyes, the drag queen read him about it but after a while… I think I told him it was cute,” Troye’s lower lip began to shake, “And I just wanted to have fun but he wasn’t into it so I just… I just went back inside but he followed me-” His voice shook and he shrank back, away from Gerard, “-Into the bathroom and I thought-” He shook his head, “-But it wasn’t, he backed me into the stall at the end and then he-” Blood ran down his cheeks and dripped off his nose, “He-” He sobbed, body-wracking.

 

Gerard hesitated, only listening to him sniff and cry, and then, tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Then nothing after that?”

 

Troye nodded, trying to breathe, “Like it’s just gone, there’s nothing there.”

 

“When you woke up, were you safe?” Gerard didn’t know how to comfort him any further besides rubbing circles into his back.

 

Troye sputtered and gathered himself as best as he could, “It was… I woke up and I thought I was in my old room, but when I left… It was downtown, where all the strip malls and motel six’s are, that’s where I was, and my phone was dead and I remember leaving the room and just walking, and I was barefoot… But I got lost and-and- I wanted to go home and I got back to campus and everyone wanted to know where I was and what had happened… I was out for three days and I told the police everything I remembered and they went to the room and my friends took me to the hospital,” He almost sobbed again, “But nothing had happened, the nurse told me, nothing happened.”

 

Gerard nodded, struck dumb with the similarities and the identical terror in his voice, identical to his own story.

 

Troye sniffed and drew in a deep shaking breath.

 

“But then…” Gerard led him and he nodded.

 

“I got hungry,” He nodded, “Nothing worked, just sleep… I couldn’t eat enough or drink enough and it got worse and worse until I couldn’t stop shaking.”

 

His eyes were red and tinged with blood, “It wouldn’t stop.”

 

“It was like that for us too,” Gerard comforted him, “For Mikey and I.”

 

“What did you do?”

 

“After the hunger set in… We stuck close, didn’t talk, it was too much effort, we didn’t have a Patron, if we did, we would’ve gotten it easily, but we killed dogs and birds, it wasn’t until we got human blood that it worked… The first time, it has to be human.”

 

“I killed a raccoon in a gas station bathroom.” He said, even and calm, even with a stray tear tracing red down his cheek. “There was blood everywhere, and then I only found blood because I kept stealing from donation centers… Getting that bag was better than anything I’ve ever felt.”

 

Gerard leaned back to look at the starless sky, “Why didn’t you come to the Dinner tonight? Did you think it wasn’t for you?”

 

“No, I-” Troye kept his eyes firmly on his sneakers, “I don’t know, I don’t think I can do this.”

 

“This is a place for you, I know that, better than anyone,” Gerard said, earnest, “You deserve this help, you deserve to be with people who can help you, and you  _can_ do this, Troye, you can graduate and go after whatever you want even if you’re like this now,” Gerard grabbed the blood bag and held it out to him, “I can’t make you come to any mass or events, but I want you to, I don’t want you to think you have to steal because all of us will help you, like Mrs. Brownstein, Father Schechter, and Ms. Parton.”

 

Again, he inched the bag closer, “You don’t have to go through what I did.”

 

Troye gave him a long and tired look, then grabbed the bag from him, his eyes melting into an inky black.

 

Gerard looked away.

 

Walking back across the parking lot, they chatted as they approached the rose garden and the door to the apartment.

 

“I’ve been thinking about moving back into my dorm,” Troye told him, “I know my mom’s still nervous about what happened, but I can’t just be late to classes all year,” He shrugged, “Maybe she’ll be less worried if I tell her I’m going to church again.”

 

“I can tell a few parishioners around the college that you’ll be there, they can help you out if you want it,” Gerard said, “And we’ll put your dorm on the mailing list.”

 

“Don’t bother, I think my roommate is already signed up.”

 

Gerard blinked, “How do you mean?”

 

“He told me about it when we were studying, they just started coming, I think he’ll cancel but I’ll tell him not to.”

 

Gerard flashed back to a blue arm cast, signed with names and doodles, he closed his eyes for a moment, marveling at his own cluelessness. “You’re roommates with Ray Toro.”

 

“Hey! Yeah,” Troye nodded as they came to a stop outside the door, “Weird guy, sleepwalks a lot, but he’s so nice.” Gerard fumbled with his key, berating himself for forgetting that  _tiny_  detail as Troye went on. “Listen, I owe you, Preacher, for a lot-”

 

“No, no,” Gerard shook his head, but winced, “You get back home safe, alright?”

 

“Right, yeah, thank you, Preacher,” Troye smiled, “Sorry for waking you up so late.”

 

Gerard nodded watching him step away, then closed his eyes with a heavy sigh, “Troye.”

 

“Yeah?” Troye turned back and Gerard took a few steps back to him.

 

“I hate to ask this, even though you offered.”

 

“Anything,” Troye insisted.

 

Gerard hesitated, “If Ray Toro is your roommate…” He leaned in and detailed his request to Troye.

 

Morning came in a blink and by that time Troye was safe and sound back in his parent's house.

 

Carrie greeted him in the office early, “Surprise!” She was smiling wide and shoved a small package under his nose.

 

“What’s this?” He asked, already ripping into it.

 

“Well, you had been complaining about your shoes lately, and I know it’s hard for you to go out and look on your own…”

 

They were black boots that went up the ankle, “They’re supposed to be dressy,” Carrie explained as he ran his hands over the leather, “And more comfortable than the ones you have now that you said pinch all the time.”

 

Gerard smiled, “What for?”

 

“I’ve had my eye on them forever,” She shrugged, “Maybe for Christmas or something, but you’ve been working like crazy lately, and after what you did for us last night… It’s the least I could do.”

 

He swelled, “Carrie…”

 

“Don’t use that tone or I’ll cry too,” She pushed him back and he laughed, sitting down on the floor in a hurry to change his shoes.

 

“Ooh what’d you get?”

 

Carrie jumped and reached back to slap Joe, who had suddenly appeared over her shoulder, he dodged, giggling.

 

“Boy! You are the only person I know that can sneak up on me anymore!”

 

“I didn’t even know he was sleeping over until I saw him on the couch this morning,” Gerard grinned up at him, “Check out these boots.”

 

Joe eyed them, “Now I feel bad, I didn’t get you anything.”

 

“You don’t have too, Carrie just sprung them on me,” Gerard said, feeling the toe appreciatively.

 

“I just felt like we can only go up from here,” Carrie clapped her hands together, eager, “Miss Macy is out of our hair, at least until she finds something else to push on us, Troye is doing well, Mikey and G are acting all brotherly… Joe is here! That’s always fun!” Joe nodded, his head going to the side as if agreeing with her. “The only way to go is up! So for this new chapter, I got new shoes! For me too, but they’re expensive so I left them at home.”

 

Gerard stood and pulled her into a hug, “Thank you so much, Carrie, I don’t think I can survive without you.” She squeezed back as tight as she could.

 

“Also in good news, Preacher, last night was quiet, or maybe I just wasn’t paying enough attention,” She gave a sigh of relief, “I’ll have to wait and see.”

 

Gerard nodded, smiling back.

 

“Well now I gotta get you food or something,” Joe snaked an arm around his shoulders, “I can’t just stand here and take all these heartfelt compliments.”  

 

He snapped his fingers, “Best Friend Dinner.”

 

“A platonic date,” Carrie nodded her head in solemnity.

 

“You don’t have to take me on a date because one good thing happened,” Gerard bent back down to tie the laces on his new boots.

 

“Okay then, Best Friend Lunch,” Joe shrugged, “Keep talking, maybe you’ll get it down to Best Friend Couple of Quarters in a Vending Machine.”

 

Gerard snorted, but Joe kept insisting, “Come on, I’ll take you out, we’ll get a burger.”

 

Gerard hesitated, his smile fading, “Um… Uh, yeah, let me… Let me check a few things.”

 

“You boys have fun,” Carrie patted him on the arm, “Keep that umbrella tight.”

 

“You want leftovers?” Joe asked as Gerard stepped slowly from the office, chest tightening. The door closed as she expressed her thanks.

 

He made as if he had a set list of things to do, walking briskly as if taking a while would make Joe change his mind. Running around the church, looking for things he really didn’t have and doing things he really didn’t need to do.

 

He entered the apartment, straightening the pillows and flicking off the TV set on the home shopping channel. He contemplated making his bed, but just shut the door to his room instead.

 

Out of habit, he checked the fridge.

 

“Mikey!”

 

“ _What_.”

 

Mikey’s voice was muffled under blankets and pillows, but his door was open.

 

“Get some groceries when you go out tonight! Seriously…” He slammed the fridge shut, “It won’t kill you!”

 

He heard Mikey shuffle and turn in his bed, then grumble,” Yeah, sure.”

 

Gerard stepped down the hallway and leaned against Mikey’s doorframe.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Mm fine,” Mikey answered, “Are you going out with Joe?”

 

“A lunch, yeah.”

 

“Okay, you’ll be fine.”

 

Gerard sighed, “Have you seen my umbrella?”

 

Mikey said something into the pillow that Gerard couldn’t understand, and he was asleep again.

 

He wrote a new list and used a piece of scotch tape to attach it to Mikey’s parka, which was draped over the couch, then made sure to secure the blinds in case he woke up when the sun was still shining.

 

The library was dim and silent as he searched for his umbrella, digging through the plastic tub of Lost and Found. Only empty water bottles and bouncy balls covered in dust awaited him.

 

Something clattered in the kitchen.

 

A few whispered curse words followed by the beeping of the microwave, something crackled as it heat up.

 

“Ryan?” Gerard frowned.

 

“Preacher!” Ryan almost yelled, a few more clatters, Gerard found him hunched by the pots and pans drawer, something smoking from the microwave. “I was just-!”

 

“Here, let me help you,” Gerard knelt next to him to help him pile the cook wear back into the cabinet, “What happened?”

 

“I…” Ryan swallowed, “I was looking for something else and they all just toppled out I didn’t mean to-” He was shaking as if he’d been caught like a caged animal. Gerard suddenly smelled blood.

 

“Did you get cut on something?”

 

“What?” Ryan snapped quickly.

 

“I smell blood.”

 

“Oh, oh, yes, I just…” He scrambled, standing up fast as they closed the cabinet, “It healed fast, don’t worry about it-”

 

The smoke alarm suddenly rang and they both jumped, with Gerard rushing to open the microwave and almost burning his fingers on-

 

“It started bugging out!” Ryan snatched it away from him, shouting over the alarm.

 

A Nokia cellphone.

 

“I didn’t know what else to do, maybe I was hacked, like in those movies.”

 

Gerard ignored how frantic he looked, stuffing the microwaved cell phone into his pocket and waving a rag at the smoke alarm.

 

“I got it under control, thanks, Preacher!” His tone was begging Gerard to leave.

 

“Sure,” Gerard decided he would comply, ignoring the smell of blood and how the keypad to the blood cellar was blinking. “Have you seen my umbrella?”

 

“It’s in the coat room, I found it last night, see you!”

 

Gerard met Joe again by the front entrance, umbrella in hand, blinking away the encounter.

 

“Right, let's get BLT’s or something,” Joe had been grilling Carrie on her favorite lunch spots while he had been gone and had planned to walk as usual. “Or… just get more ice cream.”

 

“Perrie isn’t just gonna give you more free fries if that’s what you’re thinking.”

 

“A girl can dream, but I do want a burger,” Joe held the door open for him as if he was a doting butler, “From here, we walk.”

 

“Luxurious,” Gerard pushed him back by the shoulder.

 

Joe spluttered, regaining his balance after Gerard used his strength to almost topple him, “Jeez, do you want to sit in Subway or get some Applebee’s?” Gerard snorted, trying not to notice to the sun beating through the umbrella, or his heart beating through his chest as the church grew distant.

 

He let Joe lead the conversation.

 

They sat at a booth away from windows and ordered quickly, off the cheap menu.

 

Halfway through the meal, which so far only hadn’t really satisfied even half of Gerard’s real hunger, Joe asked: “So what’s up with you?”

 

“You know what’s up with me,” Gerard looked up from his food, quirking his eyebrow.

 

“Uh, now I don’t,” Joe shook his head, “You’re always really quiet when we get out or are you just crafting your perfect thank you?”

 

“For these kid’s meal sliders?” Gerard gestured at his plate, “Nothing will ever come close to expressing my gratitude for that.”

 

“Seriously,” Joe stopped him, earnest, “I thought everything was looking good for right now, and I mean that in the general sense obviously, but with the Steak Dinner, sticking it to Macy, helping out Carrie and Troye…” He shrugged, “I’m not a vampire but I can see when something’s bothering you.”

 

Gerard sighed, “It’s actually good right now Joe, not sarcastic or anything, Mikey is fine and Carrie is trying, and at least Troye can start living again.”

 

“So what’s wrong with you?”

 

He knew Joe didn’t mean it in a confrontational way, “I’m exactly where I was before all of this started, and now it’s over, so you’d think I’d progress in some way.”

 

“Maybe it’s because you never physically change,” Joe reasoned, “So you only think you have no character arc.”

 

Gerard hesitated.

 

“I used to travel everywhere, before we were taken in at Our Lady… Now I can’t leave it,” He put his hands up on the table to reveal they were shaking, “I can’t stop thinking about how if I’m not there, something will go wrong, something awful, to Mikey, or anyone else, or something will happen to me, or I’ll do something… I can’t stop thinking about how great stuff is right now, and then about how I can’t stop it if it backfires, because I can’t stop digging a deeper hole, back where I know it’s safe.”

 

Joe nodded emphatically and pressed his hand over Gerard’s shaking one, “Dude, even if it does backfire, I’ll be there, no matter what I’ll run out in the middle of a shift if I have to, and all that stuff about not being able to leave?” He leaned back, “Just because you stall, or your hands shake, you still do it, it’s all your anxiety talking from being on the run for forever, everyone has it, I get anxiety taking out the trash.”

 

“And what if something happens? Something that’s so bad, but I can’t even step off church property?”

 

“I don’t see that at all, Gerard, no offense,” Joe shrugged, “You keep selling yourself short, soon other people will too, even when they know in their gut that you’re better than them.”

 

Gerard quickly wiped away a spare drop of blood from the corner of his eyes and nodded into his food, mumbling: “Thanks for taking me on this lunch date.”

 

“It’s what I do.” Joe waved over the hostess to pay.

 

Soon Joe had to catch a shift at the gas station, making sure to say goodbye to Carrie on his way out, Mikey had taken residence on the couch and quickly tried to convince Joe of quitting. “You can just live on our couch!”

 

“And have to sleep on the imprint of your butt?” Joe pushed his forehead back and Mikey slapped his hand away, “I don’t think so.”

 

Gerard tried to hide his laughter with a snort that echoed out from the confession booth and into the church.

“Something funny?” Mr. Cash’s voice from the other booth made Gerard jump in his seat and Mr. Cash seemed to come close to a laugh. “Sorry, I forget you’re still young.”

 

“Just something Joe said earlier, sir.” Gerard smiled.

 

“He’s a good kid,” Mr. Cash nodded, “Bit strange though.”

 

He said nothing else on the subject.

 

“Preacher, I have something to confess.”

 

“Please, go ahead,” Gerard waved his hand for him to continue, even if Mr. Cash wouldn’t see it.

 

“I keep a lot of secrets, Preacher,” He began, “Stuff from before the Guild, and the Guild has no business knowing. Stuff that only Disashi told me before he passed.”

 

Gerard frowned, “Disashi? But isn’t that-?”

 

“Let me finish, kid,” Mr. Cash insisted, “It’s important.”

 

Gerard nodded, “Sorry.”

 

“Right now… There’s an ongoing investigation into the disappearance of that kid up in Chicago, two of their Zero Class hunters are gone, brothers, one because he poisoned a Trust, someone the Guild could rely on to not become a problem, with Lycan’s blood, and the other is straight up gone, they can’t find him.”

 

“What do you mean poisoned him with Lycan’s blood?”

 

“It’s an old Warlock’s trick, nasty shit, our blood has different reactions to different things, satiating hunger is the least of our problems,” Mr. Cash shifted in his seat, “The Trust went missing too, and they won’t find him unless he wants to show himself, besides, there’s more, blood banks going dry, dealers disappearing, Sightless going away and coming back turned, the more south you get the worse it gets, there were more reports of werewolves in the last few months than I’ve seen in a while, Lycans handle it quick, usually, but a few packs called the Guild in to help… You just don’t see that happen.”

 

“Until now,” Gerard added, “Why haven’t I heard about this?”

 

“Guild is touchy, and I don’t like to get on their bad side when it comes to Info, my sources are good, but not that good, telling you would be a loose end that I didn’t want to be caught in the crosshairs.”

 

“So why tell me now?”

 

“I’m going away for a bit,” Mr. Cash said, and Gerard straightened.

 

“You’re going after the Patrons of these Fresh-Turned you mean,” Gerard said and Mr. Cash gave a small huff of laughter.

 

“Someone has to get their hands dirty and the Guild isn’t the best at navigating our little community, no matter how much they study us,” He defended, “If one of us starts trouble, we’re all to blame.”

 

“So you want to charge ahead, alone?”

 

“Disashi started alone,” Mr. Cash sounded lost, if only for a moment, “Did a great many things alone, not just start the guild.”

 

“Are you saying that to prepare yourself?” Gerard looked through the grates at his rough form, “Or convince yourself?”

 

Mr. Cash smiled, “You’re good at this, always manage to hit me in my sore spots, that’s for sure...Listen, you’re handling things, better than I thought if I have to confess… But this conspiracy ain’t going away, and I’d rather have you, your brother, the church… and Mrs. Parton out of it, if I can, I’m going to Mexico, farther if I have to, and I want you here, to hold it down, keep this little church safe because I know you can.”

 

Gerard stared down at his polished boots.

 

“Promise me nothing goes outside this booth?”

 

Gerard sighed, “I mean… I’ve had confessions from the eighties that would make you cringe.”

 

“Thank you, Preacher.”

 

He folded his hands in his lap, “Could I make my own confession, Mr. Cash?”

 

Mr. Cash grunted in acceptance.

 

“Everyone is telling me how great things are,” Gerard almost whispered, “And I think they are too… But there’s a bite, at the back of my mind.”

 

“And you can’t tell where it’s coming from, intuition or anxiety,” Mr. Cash sighed, “My mother would say something along the lines of how only time can answer for the Devil’s questions.” He stood and Gerard followed him from the booths, meeting him under the golden light of the stained glass windows.

 

“Which reminds me,” Mr. Cash dug in his breast pocket and revealed a silver chain, attached, a silver cross, big enough to hold in his fist. It shined with care and Gerard almost couldn’t keep his eyes off of it. “Pure silver,” Mr. Cash commented, “From before Association Law, a gift from my mother, got useful after I was turned, I think it did me well to remember the weight on my chest… I figured I’m not having kids anytime soon, so I thought I’d give it to you.”

 

Gerard’s face involuntarily twitched, “Mr. Cash-”

 

“Now, don’t go crazy,” For the second time in his life, Gerard saw Mr. Cash smiled, “You’re a good kid, and I never say that enough.” Gerard tried not to appear excited as he grabbed the necklace, unhooking it and placing it around his neck. He tucked it under his clothes.

 

Mr. Cash held out his hand, “Be seeing you.”

 

Gerard straightened his back and shook his hand, dutifully, “Safe travels, Mr. Cash.”

 

Mr. Cash patted him on the shoulder before taking his leave, “Just call me Johnny, kid.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“The local   announced the winner of it’s $5,000_

_cash prize today, going to local graduate and long time_

_employee of Whole Foods, Katie Brinkman. She receives_

_her winnings in the next few days. She credits her win_

_saying: “It’s crazy, I just picked the ticket off the street.”_

_Congratulations Katie! Our next story-_

 

 

  * **_**_KSAT 12 News reports on local Powerball winner, Room 15, Motel Six, San Antonio, Texas_**_**



 

 

* * *

 

Just three nights later, after him and Joe had shared a movie night over Chinese food, and just two nights after him and Mikey had a Karate Kid marathon. In which a vase had been destroyed after Mikey had set it on the kitchen counter and had done a poor copy of Ralph Macchio’s illegal kick to the head. The vase had shattered and Gerard could barely contain his laughter. “Johnny never stood a  _fucking_  chance!”

They’d had a good ass couple of days if Gerard could be completely transparent.

 

And it felt good, just hanging out with his brother, maybe finally getting over that weird patch that had separated them. Not that there wasn’t any distance still. Mikey was skittish, dodged topics.

 

But at least it was better.  

 

Carrie had greeted him those mornings, smiling, but still tired.

 

“I’m getting used to it,” She said, “But I’m still listening, like Supernatural Nancy Drew.”

 

“Vampy Drew,” Ryan Sitkowski mumbled, leaning over the trash cans to place new bags.

 

Carrie snorted and he looked up, “Oh, shit, you were  _not_ supposed to hear that.”

 

“Oh but I did!” She challenged, smiling as Gerard had left them in the office.

 

Ryan had barely glanced at him, however, in those last days, only sharing laughs with Mikey and then making excuses to leave whenever Gerard appeared.

 

Which made it extra strange that he was now standing at Gerard’s door at almost exactly 12:30 AM, his eyes red from crying.

 

Mikey had supposedly gone out with his friends, not taking the hearse but getting picked up by the same red car. Gerard had assumed Ryan had gone with him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Ryan shook his head, “I couldn’t do it.”

 

Gerard had no idea what he was talking about.

 

“It just got worse and worse, and I thought maybe I could-could convince him-”

 

“Ryan, Ryan…” Gerard placed a soft hand on his shoulder, “You’re okay, come inside, we can-”

 

“No!” Ryan grabbed his hand, “They’re there,  _now,_ I thought I could just skip out but this job, it’s the best thing to ever happen to me-I have  _nothing-”_

 

“You need to slow down-”

 

“Chris wouldn’t stop, Preacher, and Mikey he-” He stopped, wincing, “Mikey, I don’t know, maybe he thinks he’ll get Chris to like him, but it’s all bullshit, they’re there now, and this guy, Chris, and Balz, they say he’s amazing, but he’s been clogging the blood banks for months now-”

 

Gerard stepped back, his back rigid, rage crawling up his throat.

 

Ryan involuntarily hissed in defense, but broke immediately, “I told them everything... _Everything.”_

 

The night was silent around them, anger building in Gerard’s fists, Ryan was expecting something, the way he was hunched. “Please, please, I am so  _sorry-”_

 

Gerard pushed past him, rushing down the hall because he  _knew,_ he knew exactly what was happening. Ryan wasn’t as fast, still Fresh-Turned and inexperienced with own abilities, but Gerard could smell his tears, bubbling fast at the corners of his eyes. Not blood, just salt.

 

The library was lit by the bright fluorescents from the kitchen, bright white, an arcing triangle of light. He could hear a few whispered voices, laughing and trading playful insults.

 

The blood fridge stood open.

 

Gerard breathed in, settled, and breathed out, rage settling just below the surface. Ryan hung close to the door of the kitchen, afraid to get any closer.

 

He was still wearing his clerical, and out of habit, he straightened it.

 

He suddenly felt as if he’d been dropped from the sky, his stomach pitching and his heart climbing in his throat, listening to them go back and forth. He was choking, breathing in smoke, shivering like someone had shoved snow down his back. He stepped into the doorframe, his shadow long and thin behind him.

 

Shattered glass and dots of blood littered the white tile, trailing after the group, Balz and two others, as they stuffed bags into a duffel. They all laughed about something, one ordering the Balz and the other to open the other cases.

 

Gerard assumed with his authority, this was Chris.

 

Mikey stood at the bottom of the staircase, surveying the scene without ever taking part.

 

Maybe that was what hurt the most.

 

Chris continued with the orders, never noticing Gerard as he loomed over the group.

 

“Alright, get Ricky to bring it around, we’re good.”

 

The unnamed member nodded. “Yeah, yeah, he’s just goin’ around the block, let me-”

 

He locked eyes with Gerard at the top of the stairs and Mikey whipped around, mortified.

 

“So soon?” The smell of blood reached him, and his words came as a hiss. He took a single step down, his boots clinking against the clean tile. Ryan let out a sharp whimper.

 

Chris smiled, full of teeth. “There’s nothing else that interests me, so why not?”

 

He was thin, his scraggly hair perpetually in his face. Lip piercings and eye makeup drew the most attention, but his eyes had gone black in the presence of so much blood. Gerard realized his had done the same.

 

“The only thing worth anything in this shithole is this,” Chris smiled, “Not some Sightless bull, gold statues, tabernacles, talk about boring… Control this, control everyone.”

 

Balz and the other boy, most likely Vinny, laughed, stepped forward. Vinny hissed.

 

“Underwhelming, is what you are,  _Preacher,_ but it was nice to meet you, however brief.”

 

Chris ripped open a bag with his teeth and it spilled thick to the ground, Balz shrieked and Gerard could hear Ryan run, terrified from the Kitchen. Mikey grabbed his arm, “Gee-”

 

Gerard saw red, _“Shut up!_ ” Baring his teeth he pushed his brother away, into the cabinets behind him, his voice boomed against the tile and Mikey looked shocked when his voice wouldn’t work.

 

At the back of his mind, Gerard felt disgusting, having used his Influence, but before he could think, Vinny launched himself at Gerard. He curled his fingers and they snarled and wrestled, slipping in blood and cutting themselves on the glass. Black blood mixed with red. Balz cackled as Gerard was backed into a cabinet so hard the metal bent, the glass embedding itself in his back and ripping through his uniform. Enraged, Gerard swung for him.

 

Balz seemed to suddenly contort, his fingers stretching and his smile stretching beyond the limits, and then it was gone. Gerard felt sharp claws on his face, healing just as fast, and he threw Balz against the wall as Vinny jumped on his back, digging his lion-like teeth into Gerard’s shoulder. He screeched and Mikey surged forward to try and pull him off as Vinny bit down harder and harder.

 

Chris licked the blood from his fingers, still throwing blood into the duffel, “You can keep Ryan, by the way, fucking coward.” He looked up as Gerard twisted and fell back, digging the side of his body that Vinny was biting into harder into the ground. Vinny’s head collided with the floor and he was momentarily stunned, letting go of Gerard’s shoulder and twisting to defend against Mikey.

 

Gerard stood fast to grab Balz by the arm and twist, again, Balz contorted and only smiled.

 

He was holding back.

 

Gerard didn’t care, and hurled Balz against the stairs, smiling when he heard a crack.

 

Mikey and Vinny were still on the ground, snarling like dogs.

 

Chris spilled another bag onto the ground and Gerard clenched his fists, mouth watering at the smell.

 

“How long have you gone?” He asked, “Because my own record is just two months, maybe I’m chasing the same high that First Blood gave me.”

 

Gerard swiped at him and Chris flicked blood at him, dotting his face and making him hiss. “I’m guessing you’ve got me beat, though, careful! I heard one taste after so long can Black you out on the spot.” He ripped open another bag and this time threw it at Gerard, splattering it all over his uniform and face. It almost burned him, and he fell to the floor to cover his face. Chris quickly stepped over him, dropping the empty bag so Gerard could just read the name, Martie Maguire.

 

Blood for Carrie.

 

“Don’t eat too fast.”

 

Vinny separated from a bleeding and bruised Mikey after managing to break his arm, leaving Mikey snarling as it twisted itself back into place. Gerard shivered, and stood, breathing heavily.

 

“G-” Mikey groaned, struggling to stand. Gerard held back a sob and grabbed him by the collar of his parka and shoved him into the wall. Black black trailed down his face as Mikey gave him a look of terror.

 

“Gerard-”

 

“Clean this up.” Gerard held back another sob, almost growling, “ _You_  did this,  _you_  clean it up.” Then he dropped his brother, and quickly left, his boots making bloody footprints on the clean tile of the kitchen. As he stumbled down the hall, he gasped for air that didn’t taste of blood, bracing himself on the wall. His body aches, the tears in his skin stitching itself back together.

 

He shivered, stumbling into lean on the cool glass of the front door, watching the headlights of a blood red car speed out of the parking lot.

 

Black blood smeared on the door.

 

He flinched and limped to the apartment, falling forward as the door opened.

 

The fridge was empty.

 

He squeezed the handle and the door was torn from its frame. He yelled, caught his breath, and stepped outside into the cool night.

 

His back ached, and his legs cracked, somehow his ankle had been broken and now it burned as it set itself back in place. Walking couldn’t do much help, but he stepped away from the church anyway, trying to breathe and set his thoughts straight.

 

His hands shook as he made his way away from the church. His head felt heavy, falling sideways and forward from exhaustion. He leaned against lamp posts and walls, following the bright lights of a parking lot in the distance.

 

He rested for a moment at the corner before the buildings dipped into an alleyway, darkened and cold by night. For a second he stood, transfixed by the pit of blackness as it twisted and bent as he squinted at it. It rushed up to meet him, suddenly, growling menacingly and Gerard almost leaped back, pushing against two metal trash cans and pushing them over and sending them with a sharp  _clang!_ into the street.

 

Gerard clapped his hands over his ears and his heart pounded, whimpering, and backing away as fast as he could.

 

Finally, he stumbled into the parking lot, maneuvering around employee cars and resting on lamp posts. Minutes later, they flickered off, and he made his way to the entrance of the Super Target.

 

Music in a dead language played over the speakers, and he ignored the cashier as she greeted him with words he could only hear in his head. Her empty eyes followed him and he stumbled past the clothes to the grocery aisle.

 

Another girl with golden eyes snarled at him, smelling blood and he hissed back.

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

Her face distorted in Gerard’s head, into Chris’ or Mikey’s, he looked away before he could be frozen in his tracks.

 

Someone whispered as he entered the frozen food aisle, he ignored it, staring at the Marie Callender box meals. The darkness from the alleyway pulled at his heels, climbing up his clothes and tugging at his hair.

 

He held back a sob, his knees buckling as he leaned against the glass door.

 

 _“No,”_  Another whisper from the other side of the aisle, Gerard flinched and pushed back from the door, his vision swam,  _“No, Ryan-”_

 

The name made him jump, pushing away from the voices.

 

He curled in, bringing his knees together with his head on the floor.

 

_“This’ll turn into another Chloride, I swear to god-”_

 

“Shut up Dal, he’s not a witch,” Ryan drew closer, “He’s a vampire.”

 

“Oh like our experiences tell us that’s in any way better.”

 

“You are so cynical,” Ryan knelt closer, “Just once, you know, you could say something nice.”

 

“I complimented your stupid sword earring this morning didn’t I?!”

 

Ryan sighed, “Excuse me?” His voice was soft and he laid a hand on Gerard’s arm, “Are you okay?”

 

Gerard looked up at him and the two of them flinched back in surprise.

 

 **“His eyes are black.”** The tall one, Dal, spoke in a way that made Gerard want to shake, or scream, whichever he couldn’t control first.

 

“Calm  _down,_ Dallon, I swear-” Ryan hurriedly grabbed Gerard’s hand, “Sir? Are you okay? Were you attacked?”

 

“Or maybe he attacked someone.”

 

Gerard couldn’t look away from Dallon’s eyes, swirling gray with smoke, making him dizzy, Ryan’s voice clouded as he spoke. But he hyperventilated, staring into the fog, the cold of the freezer section ate into is skin. “Is there anyone I could call?” Ryan kept going until Gerard’s head pounded, until his vision grew dark, and his eyes rolled back into his head.

 

And then he smelled fruit and something warm.

 

“No, no, you stay over there and get the fucking Lean Cuisine,” Ryan was yelling behind his shoulder, holding a hand up to Gerard’s face. It was written over with symbols and in his palm, he held crushed spices, the plastic shakers set next to his feet.

 

“Hey,” Ryan helped him sit back up and Gerard straightened out his legs, feeling his equilibrium return.

 

The spinning was gone.

 

“What happened?”

 

“It’s just a quick spell for peace and comfort, I thought… maybe it could satiate you?” Ryan sat back, “Maybe you were still hungry, I just held it off, or I tried to.”

 

Gerard’s hands still shook, but he could breathe again, “Thank you.”

 

“Here, we already bought this,” Ryan pulled out an orange from his pack at his side, “For you.”

 

Gerard took it, nodding up at him, “Thank you,” His voice was hoarse.

 

“So… are you a… A priest?”

 

“Preacher.”

 

Ryan nodded, the loose scraps of his headband swaying. “And...What happened? Were you attacked?”

 

Gerard blinked heavy, “I was in a fight, don’t worry aboutt” Ryan frowned, then held out his hand to help Gerard stand.

 

“You sound like Dallon.”

 

He dusted himself as best he could, even as the blood dried on his black jacket. His clerical was splattered with blood.

 

The orange was sweet and juicy.

 

“Thank you, for helping me.”

 

“Of course, and sorry about Dallon,” Ryan nodded, accepting the thanks, “He's like… weirdly abrasive.”

 

Gerard smiled, “You seem like good friends.”

 

Ryan stopped tucking the spices into his pack to look at him, surprised, “Really?” He smiled, looked back at Dallon trying to balance three chicken parmesan meals in his arms, “So hard to tell with that guy.”

 

Gerard nodded and stepped forward, Ryan caught him before he stumbled anymore. “Hey, woah, uh… Do you live near here? We-or I, can drive you back.”

 

Gerard gave him a look, tired, and suspicious.

 

“Call it my good deed for the day?”

 

Gerard sighed, and nodded.

 

Dallon stayed to buy the Lean Cuisine, and when he tossed the keys to Ryan, Gerard noticed his knuckles, bruised a dark purple. He forgot about it, however, as Ryan helped him into a tan Sonata and blood dripped onto the upholstery.

 

Ryan winced, “Don’t worry, it’s not our car.”

 

Gerard felt queasy, his eyes getting hot with tears and his head feeling light again.

 

Ryan began rambling, maybe to distract himself, or Gerard. But Gerard could hear his rapid heartbeat.

 

“How old are you?” Gerard asked, staring out the window. Ryan paused in his monologue and blood rushed to his cheeks.

 

“Nineteen.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah,” Ryan sounded sorry about the fact. “And Dallon is 23! We’re from Vegas, I mean I am, originally, and I think he’s from Wyoming? I don’t know, I don’t really know all he talks about…I mean he doesn’t really talk about anything… I mean I guess all we’ve been doing is trying to figure out what the  _fuck_ we’re doing here.”

 

Gerard looked to his feet, then at the crystals hanging from the rearview mirror, “Father Schechter says that answers always come in time.”

 

“Where’s he?”

 

“Guatemala.” Gerard’s eyes watered, “I’ll walk from here.”

 

Ryan breaked hard, “Are you sure? I can-”

 

“The church is just around the corner, thank you,” He was almost too ready to get out of the car, manic in his way of unbuckling, “Thank you, I hope you find your answers.” He slammed the door and didn’t say goodbye.

 

The air smelled, still, of fruit, lime, and citrus. The orange had been gone too fast, but the feeling of being filled and warm still echoed in him.

 

Magic.

 

There was a witch in San Antonio.

 

And his brother had-

 

Gerard tried not to keel over, tried not to think about when the spell would wear off, tried not to think about the smell of blood in his clothes. He avoided the library. Instead, moving into his room and peeling back his clothes, changing into clean pajamas. He shivered and fell asleep.

 

It was that blank feeling, when he woke up, how he was only half-inhabiting his own body.

 

His office was empty, the walls decorated with just a single picture of Jesus Christ. An old computer stood unplugged on the plastic wood desk, and paperwork and unopened letters covered every inch, falling onto the floor and stacked on every available surface. It wasn’t warm and soft like Father Schechter’s and Gerard felt almost too apathetic about it, moving to sit on the floor behind his desk and grabbing a few bits of paper and sorting them into piles.

 

His throat felt tight but everything else felt dry and cracked.

 

It was two hours later and his floor was clean. As clean as being covered in piles of paper with no distinct meaning was. He leaned back against his chair, head resting on the seat. Maybe he could still smell the last hints of strawberry and citrus from the day before but his chest tightened, thinking only of Dallon and his bruised fists. There were no marks on Gerard’s skin, an ironic and cruel reminder that he couldn’t be hurt, so he shouldn’t feel so.

 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but Carrie knocked on his door much later, coming in anyway after receiving no answer. She knelt close to him, stepping over piles of paper and tucking in close to touch his shoulder and run her hands through his hair.

 

She pulled him in for a long hug, breathing deeply and holding tight. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” He didn’t respond,  “I don’t… I don’t know what I can even say to him, or what he can say to-to explain-”

 

“It’s my fault-”

 

“The only person who’s at fault is Chris,” Carrie grabbed his hand and squeezed, “He’s what brought this on, maybe if I’d been more insistant-”

 

“Father Schechter offered me a Guild connection while he was away, I was an idiot to think I wouldn’t need them-”

 

“The Guild would make things more complicated and you know it,” Carrie smoothed his hair away from his face, “They’re good people, but this would have turned into something with Secrecy and Mikey would be caught in the middle...You fought them off, and you kept it in  _our society_ , Guilders wouldn’t understand, you’re not at fault for watching out for us, or your brother, you said it yourself you wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him and there’s no one who is hurting over this more than him, not even you.”

 

Gerard could almost believe her.

 

“Where is he?”

 

“As far as I know, he’s locked himself in the Father’s office,” She nodded in that direction, “I wasn’t sure if I could get through to him… But you should talk to him, as soon as you’re ready.”

 

Gerard fell silent, whispering: “I can’t.”

 

She ran her thumb over the back of his hand, sympathetic, then stood.

 

Like she had said, the door to Father Schechter’s office was locked. Gerard stopped to stare on his way out of the office, the papers in his own space still in their nonsensical piles. His body was almost numb, tired and heavy, his own eyelids fell and for seconds at a time he was stuck in a comforting darkness until he remembered he was awake. His bed, and loneliness, called him again.

 

He realized then that he could hear Mikey speak.

 

Muffled behind the door and half-whispered, Gerard could hear the metallic buzz of the phone, crackling as service dropped down and up again. In a trance, Gerard pressed closer to the door.

 

_“-How I can do this, or how it got to that, I just thought… I didn’t know he would… I thought I was doing okay, and Ryan and Gee-”_

 

A static voice interrupted him and Gerard strained his ears to hear it, the solid wood

Making it hard for even his own heightened senses. He could only catch a small snippet before Mikey spoke again.

 

_“It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.”_

 

And on the other side was Father Schechter, his voice coming through from Guatemala static and fuzzy. Gerard tensed, blood momentarily boiling as he listened to Father Schechter rationalize.

 

_“I… I don’t know what you want me to say… I’m not angry with you, not just angry, I’m… I’m disappointed in you, Michael, I thought you were smarter than that.”_

 

Mikey coughed to cover up his voice breaking and Gerard left the office as soon as he could, speeding back to his room and slamming the door behind him. He paced back and forth, mumbling angry nonsense under his breath until a headache caught up to him and sent him into his bed, holding his forehead tight.

 

It wasn’t until early the next morning when he got out of bed, and Carrie had been there all night, leaving the lights on for Mikey and him. She had caught up on work and had dived into Gerard’s mess with just an apple and no word against it. When he entered the office still in his pajamas, she was taking a call.

 

“Oh, he’s here!” She gave him a soft smile, nodding as the person on the other line spoke, then handed it to him. “It’s Troye,” She explained.

 

He took the phone and gingerly held it to his ear. “Troye?”

 

“Good morning,” Troye sounded sheepish.

 

“Hi,” Gerard said, offering a small smile.

 

“OK, I have a ‘report’ if that’s what you wanted to call it,” Troye’s voce faded for a second as a few friends greeted him, “Right, right, let me take this-Hey girl!” He paused, “Sorry, you said to keep an eye on him, right? He’s kind of the same as when I left.”

 

Gerard nodded, “Okay, what does that mean?”

 

“Ray’s a weird guy anyway, film students always stay up late, he’s paired in a group for a project so he doesn’t come back until midnight sometimes and he comes back dead tired, nothing on those nights-”

 

“He’s talking about Ray Toro?” Carrie pressed, Gerard waved his hand to silence her.

 

“So what does he do when he’s not doing that?”

 

“I don’t know, it’s weird,” Troye said, then winced, “I  _mean,_ he’s sleeping, but it’s kind of like he’s having a conversation but not paying attention to the other person, like he’ll say things and not follow it up, it’s nonsense.”

 

Carrie tapped him on the shoulder and mouthed: “Coffee?”

 

Gerard nodded his thanks and she slipped out of the room.

 

“He mentions you sometimes,” Troye continued, “But you knew that, and sometimes this other guy, Branden, but not much else, and he’s still sleepwalking, but not far, sometimes he’ll stand up, but other times he’ll leave and come back, I fell asleep fast last night, and when I woke up, he was gone, I don’t have like, any classes with him, I always see him around the afternoon, so I’m trying not to worry… Maybe he’ll end up there.”

 

“I’ll keep a lookout, thank you, Troye,” Gerard paused as Troye expressed his thanks in return, “Who’s Branden? The kid you mentioned?”

 

“Branden… I don’t know, he might be talking about Branden Steineckert, he died a few weeks back, hit by a car, I think.”

 

“I remember Ray mentioned a friend who died in an accident a while ago, maybe that’s who he was talking about.”

 

“Yeah it was really sad, I think that’s when all this started happening for him.”

 

Gerard thought about it, “Maybe he’s being possessed, I thought it was a curse but maybe it’s connected.”

 

“Yeah, maybe,” Troye adjusted the phone, “I gotta head to class-” The door behind Gerard opened and as Troye kept talking, Gerard could see Mikey’s reflection in the office window. Both of them tensed, “-I’ll talk to you later.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Gerard held his breath and Mikey rushed out of the room, past Carrie, and down the hall. “Thanks for calling.”

 

Carrie set the coffee down as he clicked the phone back into place. For a second, she sighed, then said: “...What do you want to do?”

 

He stared at her, “I can’t ask the parish for more blood, that’s not fair to them, they trusted me.”

 

“Not about that,” She shook her head, “Everyone had their fill last night, and they deserve to know what happened, but you can’t think that they’ll immediately turn their backs on you.” She took a breath, “I mean what do you want to do about Mikey? This is another thing that you can’t expect to go away or settle with a movie night.”

 

His anger flared again, “I don’t know, Carrie, what am I supposed to even say?”

 

Carrie kept her expression even.

 

“Hi, Mikey, you betrayed me by letting your friends break into the blood fridge, it would have been fine if you had told me about it or gone for help, but I had to hear about it from  _Ryan!”_

 

 _“Yes!”_ Carrie insisted, “That’s exactly what you say, you’re angry so you tell him that-”

 

“That doesn’t take back anything, it doesn’t fix what he did,” Gerard slumped on the desk, “This is different from before, this is a real, outside, scar, not some fucking distance- I-I promised him that he wouldn’t get hurt, and he went behind my back.”

 

“We still don’t know the whole story-”

 

“I know enough!” He shouted, interrupting her. She tilted her head, giving him a scolding and affronted look, suddenly looking a lot like his mother. He flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

 

“Uh-huh, She nodded, “That’s what I thought, you’re going to be in your twenties forever, and he’ll always be seventeen, that  _doesn’t_ mean, you can act like everything is final, and how you only have one moment, it’s such nineteen year old bullshit… Something very bad happened, and you lost your trust in him and you’re angry and scared, and so am I, and so is he,” She touched his shoulder, “Take time to be afraid, but this can’t be how you live forever.”

 

* * *

 

_“And as we move further into the week,_

_you’ll see this move in toward San Antonio,_

_that will mean cloudy skies for the next few_

_days and scattered showers, uncommon for_

_this part of the year. But you’ll see it disappear_

_over the next couple of weeks.”_

 

 

  * ****Early morning forecast, San Antonio, Texas.****



 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, buddy, sorry I can’t get down there,” Joe’s voice was a distant comfort over the phone, but still a comfort nonetheless, “My boss is just killing me right now, and I need the cash.”

 

“No, it’s fine, I’m just glad you called.” Gerard sat in the office alone, after dark, huddling himself in Carrie’s rolling office chair and wrapped in a thick blanket. The only light came from the tropical screensaver of her computer, somewhere in Morocco or another place with palm trees.

 

“But, hey man, if it’s serious, I’ll come down right away, nobody’s here tonight.”

 

“No it shouldn’t be serious,” Gerard smiled, “I’m just here reading a book.”

 

“Alright, goodnight Gee.”

 

“Night man.” They hung up.

 

An hour passed as he read into one of the thick church books he’d pulled from the library days before. It was thick and boring, and his eyes glazed over as the clock slid into 3:00.

 

The phone rang.

 

He jumped and the book fell from his lap and onto the floor. He scrambled, slapping the desk, searching for the phone. When he found it, he put it up to his face upside down, “Wh-What? What?” Troye’s voice came out frantic as he adjusted the phone.

 

“Preacher! Ray! He ran out!” He paused, “Well, less of a run, more like a shuffle? I don’t know, he was asking for you but I think he’s like, having an episode.”

 

“Did you try to calm him down?” Gerard shifted the phone to his other ear, tugging on his jacket, “Was he sleeping-”

 

“No he wasn’t even sleeping, he was studying, then he stood up-” Troye grew more distressed, “It’s never happened like that, what if it’s getting worse-”

 

“I’m gonna come over.” Gerard’s voice shook as he said it.

 

“Oh my god, thank you so much Preacher, I’m trying to find him now-” The line disconnected and Gerard stood in shock, then dialed another number.

 

“Hey, it’s serious.”

 

“I’ll pick you up,” Joe said immediately, “I mean, assuming we are gonna go somewhere.”

 

“Right as always, get here fast, we’re going to the University.”

 

Joe didn’t stall.

 

Which Gerard appreciated, and he’d never really seen Joe’s car before, which was blue, and dirty. “Why are we going to the college?” He asked as Gerard sat down. The seats were dusty, but the car was lived in and nice. Gerard really like it it was Joe.

 

“Ray is having an episode, but Troye said it happened while he was awake.”

 

“So it’s getting worse,” Joe nodded, driving just fast enough that it really couldn’t be considered speeding.

 

Gerard tried to breathe deeply as the church disappeared out of the rearview mirror.

 

“So where are we going?”  
  
“I told you, the college,” Gerard answered.

 

“Yeah, but where?” Joe gave him a look, “There’s different entrances.”

 

“There’s different entrances?”

 

Joe looked flabbergasted for about six seconds, “Whatever, we’ll get out by the football field.” He drove with earnesty until the lights of the football field came into view, “I’m assuming this is about Ray, but how are you on the other thing?”

 

Gerard looked away, “I’m dealing with it.”

 

Joe gave him a look, “Sure.”

 

Gerard could see the lacrosse field just past the football field, lit up bright and green with shiny plastic grass. For a few seconds he thought he could spy two kids practicing, warming up late at night, until he saw one collapse to his knees and grab for the other. “Joe, stop!” He grabbed Joe’s shoulder and jammed his finger at the two.

 

Joe swerved to make the exit and sped to the nearest parking spot, Gerard could see the one still standing waving his his arms at the car.

 

Troye.

 

They rushed out of the car as Troye hesitantly abandoned Ray in the middle of the field, jogging to meet them, or at least open the gate.

 

Joe met him there and Gerard lagged behind, suddenly feeling heavy. He shivered and leaned against a lampost, trying to catch his breath. His vision went blurry, and he could hear a heartbeat, pumping in and out with thick blood-

 

“Gerard-”

 

Gerard stood and rushed to the gate, “I’m fine.”

 

Joe hesitated, then followed a frantic Troye as Gerard collected himself.

 

Ray Toro was a sight.

 

He looked as if he had fallen and rolled around in mud, his unbroken arm and had been scraped bloody. His hair, which usually had some sense of rhyme to it, was a just a large shape on his head. He was crying, mumbling to himself, and clutching his broken arm as if the cast was a precious artifact. Gerard blinked away the haze in his mind and knelt close to him.

 

Ray’s fingers bent like claws and he reached up to tug at his hair, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

“Ray?” Gerard knelt in front of him and tentatively held his arms. Ray shook, violently, away, but Gerard held tight, “Ray can you hear me?”

 

“No, no no no…” Ray murmured, shaking his head and bending forward into himself.

 

“Think that’s a no.” Joe said, trying to keep it light, but his voice shook, still nervous.

 

“I don’t think he was talking to me,” Gerard pushed in closer, “Ray Toro? I’m here, the Preacher, Gerard Way? Do you remember me?”

 

“He’s-” Ray Toro gasped, opening and closing his mouth silently, “He’s-gone, gone-” He sobbed, again his mouth worked open and closed, open and closed, trying to release an enormous pressure in his throat, “There’s-” He gasped, like lightning he grabbed for Gerard, squeezing down hard on his arms, “A light- _light_  - He’s gone-not-” He keeled over, “Branden-”

 

“Branden Steineckert,” Troye wiped tears from his eyes, “I told you, he talked about him before.”

 

“Ray, listen to me” Gerard pulled him back, “I need you to breathe, okay-”

 

“He’s gone,” Ray’s eyes were out of focus, and while he was crying, his face was slack and almost blank, “Like he wanted, Gerard, don’t follow, don’t follow, don’t-”

 

“Ray,” He forced Ray to look him in the eye and Ray stopped, eyes wide in shock, “You need to wake up.”

 

Ray was frozen in place, then blinked, once, twice, face screwing into confusion and terror.

 

“Ray!” Gerard grabbed for him as he tried to get away, pulling back wildly, “Ray! It’s me!”

 

“Ray!” Troye hurried next to them and Ray froze, looking from Troye to Gerard wildy. He began to cry, real tears as he leaned into Gerard. Gerard hugged him back, squeezing tight and looking past the fence and plastic grass at the shadows of darkened campus buildings and fireflies. Joe knelt close and placed a hand on Ray’s shaking shoulder.

 

“I,” Ray tried to speak through his shaking breath, struggling to take in enough air, “I am going crazy.”

 

“This isn’t crazy,” Gerard said, “Crazy people don’t know that they’re crazy, Ray, this is something else.” Ray wasn’t listening to him, shaking his head with a frantic look on his face.

 

“I was awake, I-I was studying, Troye was  _right there_ , and then I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop seeing Branden-” Ray choked on his words, falling sideways into Gerard’s hold, more like a little kid than a college student,”-Seeing Branden and that truck and then you…” His lip shook and he collapsed into tears, “I keep seeing him die, just like he stepped in front of the truck-like-like-” He hyperventilated and Troye stepped in.

 

“Ray, you need to breathe, just with me okay?”

 

“Look at me, okay?” Gerard pushed him up to look him in the eye, “Ray? Just breathe with me… and I need you to sleep.” Ray screwed his face into confusion and Gerard pushed harder, his voice echoing across the field, “Just,  _sleep._ ”

 

Ray blinked, struggling to stay awake, then, after seconds, he was gone. His cheeks lined with tears, red and swollen. Troye squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with his fists, resisting the Influence.

 

Joe seemed unaffected. Ravens cawed from the darkness.

 

“What do we do?” Troye, “I don’t think he’ll want to go to class.”

 

“He can stay at the church,” Gerard rationed, but Joe shook his head.

 

“On your couch? It’s not good atmosphere at all,” He added, “I got my apartment cheap because of the noise from the street, I’ve got a guest room I’m not even looking at, he can stay with me, just for a night, I can help him calm down and he can talk this through with someone other than a priest, no offense.”

 

“No, I understand,” Gerard looked back down at Ray with a worried expression. “That’s better than having to deal with my mess at the same time.”

 

“I can get him some breakfast, let him calm down, then I’ll bring him back here.” Joe nodded, moving to help Gerard lift Ray to his feet.

 

“I can cover for him,” Troye opened the gate for them, “Just… I don’t know, I really like the guy.”

 

“He’ll be fine,” Gerard told him, “I trust Joe more than anybody.” Joe smiled.

 

“I’m a good luck charm.”

 

Troye smiled, not quite believing their confidence as they maneuvered Ray into the backseat. The lights of the lacrosse and football fields disappeared as they sped away. Gerard watched Ray as best he could in the rearview mirror, his reddened face free of the terror from earlier.

 

“I gotta find out who Branden is.”

 

“You gotta go to bed,” Joe retorted.

 

Gerard had no real response, just shifting to look out the window at the moon and the passing houses.

 

“Don’t worry, okay?” Joe said after a minute, “I’ll make him some breakfast, he’ll talk his guts out and I can tell you everything, we can figure all of this out together, and Ray can go back to being a film student and watching Law and Order or whatever college students do in their free time.”

 

“You saw what happened, it’s started when he’s awake now,” Gerard said, “He’s getting worse, and it couldn’t have happened at the worst time.”

 

The church appeared as a calming beacon on the horizon and Joe sighed, “No… I guess not.”

 

He pulled close to the rose bushes and Gerard fumbled with his keys.

 

“You have a good night.”

 

Gerard smiled back at him, trying to instill a sense of calm, “You too, Joe.”

 

The TV was glowing bright when he entered, the volume low as an episode of Full House ran, Uncle Jessie was leaning against a wall barely making a sound. The door shut with a click and a lump on the couch jumped.

 

Mikey, his glasses askew, sat up to look at him, “Gerard?”

 

Gerard moved silently past him, only to slam the door of his bedroom shut.

 

Carrie could, and would, talk his ear clean off if he let her.

 

It was only the morning soon after, the sun igniting the stained glass windows as it rose, turning the chapel a golden and purple color. She had met him as he relit the displayed candles for the day and told him about the latest gossip in her group of friends, and about what they were reading, and what she was reading instead, and how she had started getting enough sleep finally, and-

 

“I know you’re trying to distract me, Carrie.”

 

She paused, “Well, what else am I supposed to do? Force you to talk?”

 

They walked side by side back to the office.

 

“How’s your voices and the sleeping going?”

 

She rubbed his shoulder, “I went out there last night.”

 

He stopped, leaning against the wall to look at her, the office just down the hall, “What do you mean?”

 

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I was in any danger, they were quiet the closer I got, and I’ve gotten better at ignoring them.” She picked at her nails, “But I got a good look at the loudest graves.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Like, the ones that talk the most? Or the least quiet,” She shrugged, “To be honest I don’t know if I’m dealing with this very well at all, I know the pep talk you gave me was nice… I’m still scared of what I’ll hear.”

 

“So why did you go?” Gerard frowned.

 

“I wanted to see if I could understand them better, weirdly,” She grinned, sheepish, “But no luck, they were shy… It was only one or two that I could hear okay, Michael Carden, now he was a yeller, angry about  _something_ I’ll say, and Branden Stein-something.”

 

She looked back up at him, “What? What’s with the look?”

 

“What?” Gerard frowned, “I didn’t have a look.”

 

“Yes you did,” Carrie insisted, “You had a look.”

 

Gerard began to fast walk to the office but she easily kept in step, “I don’t think I did.”

 

“Well you didn’t see yourself make it, you looked like this,” She twisted her face into an expression that Gerard knew for a fact he didn’t make.

 

“No I didn’t.”

 

“Do you know him?”

“I don’t know anyone-” She stepped directly in front of him, barring him from entering the office.

 

“You  _do_ know him!”

 

Gerard hiked his shoulders up defensively “No!”

 

She sighed, “Gerard, help me out here… Who was he?”

 

They had a staring contest that ended with Gerard sighing and leading her to his office to sit at his desk. He shuffled some nonsensical piles of paper, then said: “I saw Ray last night.”

 

Her eyebrow quirked.

 

“With Joe,” He continued, “Troye called and told me he was freaking out, we went to help and he was in the lacrosse field completely out of it.”

 

“Oh, poor thing,” She sympathized and he nodded.

 

“But… he kept mentioning Branden,” Gerard gave her a sideways glance, “Branden Steineckert.” Carrie slapped her palm on the desk and stood up, quickly running back to her own desk.

 

Gerard paused, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air before standing again to follow her. “Carrie.”

 

“Well now that I know that!” She said, waving a hand in the air, “Let’s figure it out! Who was he? Why does Ray Toro know him?”

 

“Troye said they were friends.”

 

She pointed at him and then turned to type: ‘Branden Steineckert San Antonio’ into the search bar, “First result! Oh no, it’s sad.”

 

Local Citizen and College Student Killed In Fatal Crash

 

“The driver also sustained a few injuries and is currently being investigated,” Her eyes skimmed a few more lines, “But that was weeks and weeks ago, I mean I get why he would be so sad about it, he’s even quoted in the article…” She paused to read it, “...One of the best friends…” She shook her head, “Why would he be having his episodes and saying his name, when he’s been going after you for so long?”

 

“Ray said the episodes started really getting worse only a few weeks ago,” He sat down next to her, “Maybe they started around this.” He waved his hand at the screen.

 

“So what was Branden hiding?” She leaned in to look at a picture of him smiling lopsided, the bridge of his nose was pierced, and he was holding drumsticks.

 

“Why would he have been hiding something?”

 

“I don’t know? Maybe he was one of us? A part of this? Supernatural powers to invoke hysterical fits from beyond the grave?”

 

“Hysterical fits where he’s looking for me? I never met Branden, even more, I never met Ray before all of this.”

 

Carrie sat back in her chair, frustrated, “Then what do we do?”

 

“Joe said he would call, he’s helping Ray today, maybe they’ll talk.”

 

“Maybe I’ll figure out this whole grave talk thing,” Carrie said, hopeful, “I can go straight to the source.”

 

Joe did eventually call, just after noon, and Carrie held her head close to Gerard so she could hear.

 

“He’s really freaked out, I mean I would be too, but way more than he is.”

 

“What happened? What did he say?” Gerard asked. Joe told him about making breakfast and just chilling with Ray that morning, and how he hadn’t seemed phased waking up in Joe’s apartment. But as the day really began, he had gotten quiet.

 

“I didn’t really ask him to talk, but he did, guess he just had to, you know?” Joe shifted the phone around for a few moments. “He said some personal stuff, but… I’ll give you the basics.”

 

Gerard nodded once, “Of course.”

 

“His friend died, Branden, you know,” Joe continued, “Thing is… everyone was tossing around rumors, saying it was a suicide, that he stepped in front of the truck on purpose.”

 

Gerard and Carrie gave each other a sudden and shocked look, “And did he?”

 

“No, Ray is sure of it, but lately it’s harder for him to be sure,” Joe sighed, “He thinks… He tells me anyway, he thinks he saw Branden die, days before he actually did.”

 

Gerard paused, trying to think, “I don’t think he’s cursed, not anymore, anyway.”

 

“So what do you think he’s psychic? Or a medium?” Carrie frowned.

 

“Mediums and psychics don’t see things before they happen, not really, mediums can speak to the dead, psychics… I mean if they are legit, the sense things in the present,” Gerard stepped away and began to pace, “Joe? Did Ray say anything else?”

 

“Not about that, or what I think would be helpful, he just talked about how this mess is the worst thing that’s ever happened to him, but he did also say that his classes are killing him to the death so I really couldn’t tell you what’s worse.”

 

Carrie had leaned in again, “That’s college,” She smiled.

 

“Okay, thank you Joe,” Gerard said, “He’ll be okay for now, I hope.”

 

“Troye will call if anything goes down,” Joe responded, “But yeah, it’s no problem… He’s a good guy.”

 

They stood in silence after hanging up the phone.

 

“I can do more research,” Carrie finally said, “And try and figure out what happened to Branden.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Gerard tilted his head.

 

“I want to,” She smiled and patted his arm, “You look a little worse for wear, though, just get some sleep or watch TV, I can intercom you if I need anything.”

 

Gerard nodded, already yawning, “I didn’t really sleep last night, so…”

 

Then, he was-

 

Standing at the corner of the hall, just before it turned to the office.

 

He blinked, his heart pounding. His eyelids felt heavy, as if he had just woken up. He gasped, breathing shaky and trying not to fall to his knees in shock.

 

He could hear through the glass walls of the office.

 

His knees buckled for just a nanosecond and he braced himself against the wall, squeezing as hard as he could, his fingers almost cracking through the drywall. His legs shook as he balanced himself and struggled to hear over a pounding in his head.

 

Miss Macy’s voice reverberated through the glass, along with Carrie’s.

 

They were arguing.

 

Gerard’s hands shook, and he could smell her blood, Miss Macy’s angry and racing heart beating in his ears. He shivered, hungry, and again braced himself against the wall. Leaning back he slid to the floor trying to catch his breath.

 

He remembers yawning, telling Carrie how little sleep he had gotten.

 

And now he was here, holding his hands to stop them from shaking, he had been falling apart since Chris had trespassed, and since Mikey had let him do it. He was too hungry to cry.

 

The office door slammed shut and he could hear her high heels click, out the door and to the parking lot.

 

Carrie let out a frustrated noise and Gerard’s head lolled against the wall.

 

Mikey stood in a door frame a few feet away, his expression one of worry and stress. “She came about the break-in,” He said, quiet.

 

Gerard shut his eyes, “I thought that was supposed to be a secret.”

 

“The Guild would have held an investigation, Carrie knew that, so we set it up like someone just broke in… We donated money too, anonymously, to make it look like it had been stolen.”

 

Gerard stayed silent, watching the colors flow behind his eyelids.

 

“So is this it?” Mikey sounded pained, “You just aren’t eating? At all?”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Gerard mumbled, “Just go away.”

 

“I let my friends do something awful, that doesn’t mean you suddenly don’t matter-”

 

“Fooled me-”

 

“Gerard!” Mikey clenched, “I’m sorry… I don’t know how to even...” He faded.

 

“Oh, I feel so bad for interrupting now,” Carrie stood awkwardly at the end of the hall and Gerard stood, not without some dizziness. “But Ryan is back.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“Your call is important to us, and may be recorded for training purposes._

_The International Hunters Guild has been number one in supernatural and_

_human relations since the 1800’s, and hopes you’re having a wonderful day!_

_To speak directly to your local chapter, please press one._

_For inquiries concerning lamia, vampires, and any other bloodsucking_

_Creature, please press two. For any business concerning lycan’s and_

_possible information on a werewolf wreaking havoc on your small_

_northern town, press three. Believe you’re being conned by a_

_Warlock? They may be on our watchlist! Please press four. Cursed, hexed,_

_or bewitched? Press five. Magic in a general sense, please press six._

_Miscellaneous questions or have an addition to our Harpy Report? Press seven!_

_If you have any information regarding the current Blood Bank and Fresh-_

_Turned Investigation, please press seven and state your Hunter’s Identification._

 

**_-Automated answering machine to the International Hunter’s Guild, 2005, San Antonio Texas._ **

 

* * *

 

Ryan had his hands tightly wrapped and squeezed between his thighs, his leg bouncing.

 

Gerard took a deep breath and said: “I-”

 

“I don’t want you to think I’m begging for my job back!” Ryan’s eyes went wide, shooting up to stare at Gerard.

 

“What?”

 

“I know that you know that I knew,” He continued, “That they were gonna do that, but before they actually did it, I didn’t know that they would do it like that, and if I had known that that was what was happening, I would have let you know! I just thought you should know that, in case you didn’t.”

 

Gerard blinked. “I- _what?”_

 

Ryan groaned, “I mean-” He buried his face in his palms, “Shit, I mean… It was  _Chris,_ and I just wanted him to think like, I’m  _cool_ , or something, and he’s not even that cool, if I’m talking about it, he’s just this weird asshole type guy, and he’s like, aloof or whatever, so I just felt like I had to impress him-I-” Ryan shook himself, like trying to rid himself of his nerves, “-He’s so: ‘meh’ about everything, and he’s Fresh-Turned,  _technically,_ and he’s got Borders! So he’s always just calling us up like, ‘I gotta get into this one place, can you come and invite me in’” He hissed, “ _Grow up!_ ”

 

Gerard shook his head, thrown off guard, the orange light of Father Schechter's office bouncing off of Ryan’s face. Which was twisted into a very strange expression.

 

“Are you-” Gerard squinted, any anger that he might have had for Ryan was washed away with confusion, “ _What_  are you talking about?”

 

“Did you know the Guild classified Borders as ‘psychosomatic’?” Ryan asked him, suddenly heated, “So that asshole can just walk into places but no, he’s gotta call me and I gotta run halfway across town so he can enter the shittiest strip club in Texas…” He shook his head, “And you know I thought it was  _cool?_ He said that his Patron told him it was closer to the ‘old ways’ so he didn’t help him break it, he was  _bragging_  about it.”

 

“So,” Gerard found his place to step in, “You and Chris, you only met recently?”

 

“I mean, I’ve been traveling with him and Balz, Ricky and Vinny too, longer than Mikey anyway,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “For like half a year… And honestly I can’t believe I put up with him, for so long, too, I mean he talks about his Patron like he’s some god, like, ‘He gave me a gift’ type shit, almost everyday!” He paused, “I thought… I needed to impress him, or show him like, yeah, my Patron wasn’t some pussy, I like the old ways too!” I think he was making it up, none of us know the ‘old ways’ we’re like two years old in vampire standards… I’d hardly call Ricky a vampire even, what a poser, he plays up everything, and he eats all of Chris’s shit right up so I guess that’s why,” Ryan stopped, suddenly, to look Gerard in the eye, “I kind of am begging for my job back.”

Gerard stared at him, just for a second, giving him a once over and lacing his fingers together on the desk, “Tell me more about the group, not just Chris, about Balz and Vinny.”

 

Ryan let loose a great sigh of relief, “Balz… honestly, I don’t know, he freaks me out, I don’t get what his thing is, like you know how Vinny has this bat nose almost? Or Chris has pointed ears, but I don’t get Balz at all, it’s like he’s possessed, and he eats more, and he fights all the time, he just freaks me out, and Vinny too, but Chris never cared because he would always get the biggest animal whenever we needed a meal, or I think they had the same Patron so they have to like each other.”

 

“And Vinny?”

 

“A piece of shit,” Ryan insisted, “I swear, he’s the worst, and older than me, I think he hates Sightless more than Chris, and I think…” He hesitates, “I think he’s turned people before, and he told me once he had no idea how, but I swear I just get a feeling from him… He wants in on Chris’s big gang, that’s why he was sticking around, there’s supposed to be this big ass family, or something, a  _brood,_ like in Mexico or-”

 

“Did-” Gerard nodded to apologize, “Did Chris- were you- Was he doing what he did for them? For-”

 

“Not for anything like Robin Hood, if that’s what you’re asking,” Ryan slouched, dejected, “They don’t need anything, it was because he… Because his patron told him to, I know it.”

 

They spent a long minute in silence.

 

Ryan shook his head, “I… I don’t have any right to ask you, but I… I  _need_ this job, more than anything, I swear, I need it, Preacher, like I need blood,” He leaned forward, “It’s the only place I’ve got left, and I know what I did was wrong, but this job is like this-just-  _empty space-_ and-and-” He took a breath, “It didn’t have anything to do with Chris for a long time, and I think I just… I think I figured that out too late.”

 

He continued to beg and the sound of his voice began to get drowned out by Gerard’s own beating heart. He can hear Mikey’s, just outside, waiting.

 

He sighed.

 

“Ryan,” Gerard began.

 

Ryan halted.

 

“You did the right thing,” Gerard was almost mumbling, “I don’t know if it was too late, but…” Ryan was silent like the grave, “But I can forgive you, and you deserve the job.”

 

Ryan deflated, his smile hesitant but his eyes shone with tears, “Thank you, Preacher, thank you so much I-”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Gerard tried to smile back, “Just prove me right, okay?”

 

Mikey had left. No longer listening.

 

Ryan left, running out to Carrie, who Gerard could see through the door just before it shut once again. They hugged with big smiles, and she cast him a glance out of the corners of her eyes.

 

The door shut.

 

“Goddamnit,” He whispered.

 

As the day passed, he stayed in the office, watching the orange light fade to an ochre, and then a purple, and finally a muted gray. The couch was lit from a dim streetlamp that shined through the curtains and Gerard curled up on it as soon as light fell, wanting to shut out the world as soon as possible with sleep.

 

His dream went like this:

 

It started with blood.

 

Pouring, or just dripping, down his face. Or maybe someone else’s face just in front of him.

 

The smell was intoxicating, making him dizzy.

 

He was standing, maybe in sand, as the ground beneath was hard and the rocks under his boots could be felt through the rubber soles. The sky above him was domed, and free flowing, twinkling with stars and satellites that moved in long exposure.

 

In the distance he saw shadows.

 

A building, whose windows flickered on, and several rectangular shapes he knew to be cars. There was a sharp bang, like a firework detonating in the sky before releasing a shower of sparks. There were no sparks, however, just a long screech, so loud Gerard had to reach up to cover his ears. So loud, he wondered if the blood was coming from his ears.

 

Another bang, and a shape lifted from the building, like a large bird. It’s wings wide and full, they made Gerard feel small just looking at them. The bird appeared to have a thin body, a small head, and a long tail that Gerard could barely make out.

 

There was another scream, and a bang, and the bird lifted gracefully, beautifully in the air. It flapped once, screeching joyfully, and a sharp wind traveled across the sand, as if coming from that flap of the wings.

 

The blood splattered to the ground in front of him, and he coughed.

 

Another bang, and the bird screamed, twisting in midair, it’s wing jerked and collapsed.

 

And as Gerard watched, he fell to his knees.

 

The bird screamed and the sound made his chest heave, releasing more blood that pooled around him thick and black.

 

A sharp ringing noise filled the air as the bird fell back to Earth, it’s beautiful flight cut off too soon as it collided with the side of the building and was silenced.

 

And he was awake.

 

Standing out in the office as the phone rang.

 

His hands shook, his breathing heavy, he answered the phone.

 

The voice that greeted him let him release a breath he was barely aware he was holding.

 

“Troye? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

 

His voice was groggy and distant. “I just thought you should know about something...Ray, yeah, sorry, I’m tired.”

 

“It’s fine,” Gerard soothed, “What’s wrong? Is he okay?”

 

“I think so,” Troye paused, his own drowsiness sinking through the phone and into Gerard’s own slowly sinking eyelids. “He woke me up, like at um… I think around twelve but then I fell back asleep until now.”

 

“Where’d he go?”

 

“He said…” Troye sighed, “He said something about going to ‘get him’, and I mean we’re not BFF’s but I think he was talking about Branden.”

 

Gerard shifted on his foot, a soft tick at the back of his mind reminded him of how he shouldn’t leave the church.

 

His chest tightened.

 

“He’s definitely way more responsible than this… Just thought you should know.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll find him.”

 

He calls Carrie just as soon as hanging up.

 

And before he can say a word, Carrie says: “I see him.”

 

“Ray?”

 

“His hair is pretty distinguishable, and he tripped my floodlights,” She paused, “He’s in the graveyard…” She tsked, “He bent down.”

 

“Okay,” Gerard felt his pulse jump, “Okay, just wait for me.”

 

He decided in the darkened office that Joe would sit this one out.

 

He also decides to be extra stupid, and take the hearse.

 

The walk to the garage tries to convince him not too.

 

Tries.

 

In the end it was like riding a bike, if riding a bike included running a red light and having a weird split second thought about reversing and sitting through it but he had already turned the corner before giving himself the opportunity to humour that particular train of thought.

 

Carrie opens the door for him as soon he steps onto her porch, “I don’t think he’s having an episode, but I don’t think he’s lucid either.”

 

He followed her back into her house and then towards the larger windows facing her small backyard. The fence cut off the rest, old and twisted, made of black cast iron and rusting around the edges, it was almost too Hollywood. She handed him a pair of binoculars and when he frowned she shrugged, “I used to birdwatch.”

 

He blinks.

 

“You know,” She frowns harder, hitting him on the shoulder, “ _Before_ the sun turned into a ball of death… Or at least a more obvious ball of death, and not just through, like, radiation.”

 

“Yeah,” Gerard looked through the lenses, trying to spot Ray, “Okay.”

 

“Get ravens 24/7 though…”

 

“Let’s just get out there, I don’t see him.”

 

“I just don’t want to freak him out, maybe he really is mourning his friend?” Carrie stopped him before the door, but answered herself before he could even open his mouth, “Right, but what would lead us to think that? Whenever he’s done anything it’s because he’s having an episode.” She opened the door, “Kid is very normal, it’s weird, let’s just go.”

 

Gerard smiled.

 

“Can you hear any of those voices still?”

 

“All the time,” She led him past her garden, which hummed with crickets, and down a short incline as her property ended, “But it’s better now, you were right, I had to start thinking of them as… former? People? I guess? And get out of my own head.”

  
The gate to the cemetery was on the other side, facing toward the street, but hopping the fence was no effort, just a step and a jump, nevermind the small glide near the end. They both hit the ground soft and nimble, without a sound.

 

“I always forget we can do that,” Carrie switched to a whisper, “Never get the chance to.”

 

Gerard hummed in agreement.

 

In the distance, he spotted two lights spilling across the grounds and illuminating the square gravestones set into the ground. “Groundskeeper’s awake,” He whispered.

 

“Ray must have snuck in too,” Carrie nodded, “But I didn’t see him after he bent down, where did he go?”

 

Gerard pointed at a nearby grave, above ground and rectangular, “Old graves, we gotta find a new plot.”

 

“Follow the flowers!” Carrie smiled and her eyes were glowing a cold gray in the dark, twin moons, “Very  _Nancy Drew.”_

 

“What?”

 

“Here,” She led him past the crumbling graves to a row several feet away, “These are dying, so like, it's gotta be newer… See! This dude died four years ago, okay now I’m excited, I’ve always wanted to be Nancy Drew.”

 

“Sorry to kill your dreams so fast Carrie,” Gerard tapped her shoulder and pointed down past rows and rows of graves, to a silhouette with big curly hair and an awkwardly bent arm, “But… he’s right there.”

 

Carrie huffed as she stood back up, “So much for good, mystery novel type, investigation.”

 

Gerard complied when she linked an arm around his, making him feel like an English lord walking through a rose garden, “Sorry, this is just some shitty Nancy Drew fanfiction, probably.”

 

Ray was deathly silent as they approached.

 

“Sweetie?” Carrie unlatched her arm from Gerard’s and crouched next to him, “You’re out pretty late, don’t you know it’s a school night?”

 

She tried from a warm smile, but Ray was unresponsive, slouching low and facing the ground, his hair falling around his face. His blue arm cast shined in the light from the groundskeeper’s office.

 

But his hands were moving, just the slow bend of his fingers scraping at the ground.

 

Gerard looked over at the office, trying to momentarily catch any movement, fearing getting caught. He was still in his collar from earlier, and he didn’t know if getting caught breaking and entering would be grounds for any disciplinary actions.

 

For a second, just by accident, he zeroed in on the groundskeeper’s heart beat.

 

“Gerard-” Carrie’s voice echoed, “-I’m gonna Influence him, or try to, maybe snap him out of it.”

 

He nodded, hands shaking.

 

She bent closer, grabbing the sides of his face with a light touch, when she spoke, it was as if Gerard could feel her voice vibrating through the ground, through his boots and into his body, but it stopped as a simple voice in his mind, and he felt no influence.

 

She said:  _“Ray?”_

 

Ray gasped, his face going white as a sheet, “No!” He yelled, and Carrie scrambled to quiet him, “No!”

 

Another light flickered on in the office and she swore, Ray’s face was still blank but his movement was erratic, digging his fingers into the dirt in front of the grave stone.

 

_Branden Steineckert_

 

“Shit-” Carrie halted.

 

“What, what’s wrong?” Gerard asked, frantic, hearing clamouring from the office.

 

“I…” Her mouth was held agape, “He’s digging-I… I can hear the voice clearer…” Her eyes went wide, “Distract the keeper.”

 

Gerard had no time to question her, instead choosing to run to a row far away, out of view of her and Ray, but easy to catch by the groundskeeper as he exited the small cottage.

 

He caught his breath, and began to stroll as leisurely as he could, making as if no one had screamed just seconds before.

 

Okay, maybe his breathing was just a little heavy.

 

The groundskeeper’s heartbeat was a nauseating as he approached, and Gerard stumbled trying to collect himself. When he turned, the groundskeeper faltered.

 

Gerard wondered, if Carrie’s eyes glowed, what did he look like like in the dark?

 

“Well… Preacher,” The man was surprised and hurried over, “Didn’t expect to see you out here so late.”

 

Gerard frowned, “Do I know you? From Our Lady?”

 

The man chuckled, “Well, no, I don’t attend, I go up to Holy Spirit and I’ve seen you talk, mostly with Father Schechter… I’m not exactly a regular church goer.”

 

“Ah,” Gerard nodded, the sound of blood pumping in his ears.

 

“But anyway, I could’ve sworn I heard a yellin’ of some sort, couldn’t have been you, could it?”

 

“I haven’t heard anything.” Gerard shrugged.

 

“Well, ain’t that a relief… Tell you the truth I can’t stand it after dark, but my buddy’s late to his shift so I gotta stay.”

 

“Well I’m very sorry about that…?” Gerard raised his eyebrow, ignoring the smell of the man’s papercut, bandaged on his finger.

 

“Tim,” The groundskeeper held out a hand and Gerard politely shook it, “Say, what are you doing out here?”

 

“Um, well, Tim,” His eyes flicked back in the direction of Carrie and Ray, then back to Tim, “I find that… I… It’s very easy to, well, I like to say a prayer every once in a while, over the newer plots as a way to, uh, just a blessing you know-?”

 

“Oh!” Tim nodded, interested, “I mean when I saw you, you looked straight of Shakespeare, if you don’t mind me saying, I mean, you got the hair and everything, kinda vampiric!” Tim chuckled and Gerard smiled, awkward.

 

“Ha.”

 

“Could be out here reciting Hamlet, I always get a couple kids out here in all black, thinking they can put on a show.”

 

Tim’s heart beat in Gerard’s ears, muffling his voice and making Gerard shake.

 

“But I mean, you’re actually doing something worthwhile, you could go to the grocery store and perform Othello with the lettuce-”

 

Gerard shivered and grabbed his shoulder tight, holding back a hiss.

 

“Preacher?” Tim sounded shocked, his voice wavering.

 

When Gerard looked back up at him, his face went slack,  _“Go home, Tim.”_

 

Tim straightened, nodding, his eyes void of any emotion. On his heel, he turned and left, back to the cottage to grab his keys.

 

And Gerard fell to his knees, grabbing a tombstone for support. The concrete was cold, enough to burn his fingers, and his own hunger clawed at his throat.

 

He steadied himself, and stood, watching the headlights of Tim’s car flicker on and speed away.

 

He hoped his Sightlessness was still in tact.

 

Carrie, meanwhile, had gotten busy desecrating Branden’s grave, digging furiously with just her hands at the base of the stone. Ray was nodding, mumbling nonsense until Gerard grabbed him around the shoulders. He shook violently, batting him away, his pajamas damp around the edges where he had met the cold and dewy ground.

 

“Carrie-”

 

“I can hear him,” She said, “I have to… I didn’t mean to dig up a dead body but-but-he’s there! I can hear him, he’s-”

 

The air dropped several degrees in temperature, until Carrie and Gerard could see their breath unfold in front of them. Ray groaned in pain and pressed his palms into his forehead.

 

Carrie thrust her fingers into the damp soil, pulling up and out until it reached past her elbows, “Six feet under-just a little farther… Should have brought a shovel-” Her eyes were circles of white and her clothes smeared with dirt. Gerard would have pulled her back if his own mind wasn’t swimming in blood-

 

A loud groan echoed from the ground, shaking the dirt. The air fell even colder, sending frost up Branden’s gravestone and freezing the grass in a patch of white. Carrie sat back, her hands held in shaking claws, red and raw from digging.

 

And from the hole, there was smoke.

 

Ray fell silent.

 

And a hand, white like a sheet, seemed to lift through the dirt. Too big to fit, so the ground sunk away as the body pushed through, hair, face, shoulders, all white, but the eyes.

 

The eyes were black, with two small pinpointed lights.

 

Branden Steineckert stood exhumed.

 

“I didn’t even dig that far,” Carrie’s voice cracked.

 

“I-” Gerard blinked, “What?”

 

“...Branden?” Carrie moved forward and Branden shifted, without a sound, to look at her. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

 

He nodded.

 

“Are you…” She looked down at the ground, undisturbed, save for the small hole. “Are you a zombie?”

 

Branden blinked, then shook his head. He looked down at his body, white, but not bright, if Gerard looked hard enough, there were hints of color in his form. The red of his tie or the deep black in his suit. But it was just… White.

 

He shook his head again.

 

“A ghost?”

 

He paused, holding his hands up to look at them. His fingers spread wide as he touched his chest, and then his other hand. He tilted his head, then looked back at Carrie. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

 

He blinked, struggling for a moment, then shook his head.

 

“Why does Ray keep coming back to you? Or to me?” Gerard finally stepped forward. Ray sid nothing, his face expressionless.

 

Branden gave Ray a sad look, and shrugged, then pointed to his throat, making a motion like he was dragging something out. He shook his head, pointing then to his temple and back to his throat to repeat the motion.

 

“You think you know, but you can’t speak.” Carrie supplied.

 

Branden shrugged again, his movements slow and water-like.

 

“Looks like this is gonna be a yes or no situation,” Carrie said, sighing, “Which just barely explains any of this… Branden,” Branden turned his attention back to her, having been gazing at Ray, “Do you know, and you don’t have to try and explain, do you know what’s happening to Ray?”

 

Branden shook his head:  _No._

 

Carrie shrugged and Gerard gave her a sympathetic pat on the arm, “I don’t know if a yes would have helped anyway.”

 

She shrugged, “I tried…” She gestured, “Go ahead.”

 

Gerard nodded and took a deep breath, “Branden?” Branden smiled shy and nodded, “Do you know why Carrie can hear your voice?”

 

_No._

 

“Do you know what you are? If you’re not a ghost?”

 

_No._

 

“Do you...know what we are?”

 

A pause.  _Yes._

 

Gerard shuffled in place, “Did-” He hesitated, “Do you think your death has anything to do with what’s happening to Ray?”

 

A heartbreaking silence from Branden, who could only stare at Ray, who was only cradling his broken arm.. He shrugged, hopeless.

 

His image flickered and Gerard stepped forward, blocking Ray from view, “Right, Branden, it’s not your fault, just-just look at me.”

 

Branden nodded.

 

Gerard and Carrie exchanged a glance.

 

“Branden, Ray came to me before he ever mentioned you… Did you know me? Or of me? Before you died?”

 

A small movement,  _no._

 

Carrie suddenly squared her shoulders, as if realizing something. “Branden do you remember how you died?”

 

_Yes._

 

“There are rumors, Branden, about what happened-” She leaned forward, “Branden, did you step in front of that truck? Did you commit suicide?”

 

Branden flinched, looking down at her in shock.

 

_No._

 

He was shaking his head, frantic, and Gerard could almost hear him speak.

 

_No!_

 

Behind them, Ray made a choking sound at the back of his throat. Branden’s form flickered again as they turned back to see him claw at his mouth. Ray coughed and writhed, choking, again and again. “Ray!” Gerard hurried back to his side, grabbing him before he could fall over, his head lolling to one side, “Ray!”

 

Ray gasped for air, squeezing his eyes shut. Branden surged forward, arms outstretched as if to embrace Ray but before he could reach him, Ray’s eyes flew open.

 

They were blank.

 

Not of emotion or expression.

 

Just, blank.

 

White and void of pupils, swirling with gray like ink.

 

He had stopped choking, but had instead opened his mouth wide, breathing ragged.

 

Branden halted, his body twisting and shaking, like poor reception on a television, glitching in and out. His body disappeared, taking a smoke like form once again, his face frozen in fear and pain and as Ray finally closed his mouth, he was gone.

 

Ray blinked.

 

And his eyes were back.

 

He blinked again, shivering.

 

“Ray-” Carrie began, and he flinched.

 

“What-” He pushed Gerard back, “What’s-” He stopped, glancing back and forth between them, “How did I-” He pointed at Gerard, “What are you? You can’t be a Preacher you-” He flinched back before Carrie could touch him,  _“You-”_  He pushed himself away, trying to stand, “You’re not human-you’re-you’re teeth and-and- _eyes-”_

 

Gerard reached forward, trying to process everything as fast as he could, “Ray-”

 

“No!” Ray barked, “You’re-you’re… you’re monsters! I couldn’t look at you! Why couldn’t I see-”

 

“Ray, you need-”

 

 _“Don’t touch me!”_ He shrieked, “You did this to me! All the nightmares and-and-” He gulped, “What are you gonna do to me? Why did I see Branden-Did you kill Branden-?”

 

“Oh honey, no-” Carrie stepped forward, “I-m- we’re so sorry, honey, we didn’t mean for you to lose Sightlessness, we don’t want to hurt you-” She touched his shoulder and he slapped it away weakly, “We wanted to help you, but it’s just not working out-”

 

“Troye-” Ray was frantic, “He’s one of you, he’s-he’s a-”

 

“Vampire?” Carrie finished, “He would never hurt you, Ray, just  _calm-”_

 

Ray collapsed before she could finish the Influence.

 

* * *

 

 


	2. Brothers, Part Two

 

* * *

 

 

_Join us for the funeral of Branden Steineckert,_

_beloved son and student._

_He is remembered by his mother, who will_

_deliver the eulogy, along with a short film_

_presented by Raymond Toro_

 

 

  * **_**_Invitation clipped to Raymond Toro’s corkboard, San Antonio, Texas._**_**



 

 

* * *

 

 

“I thought…” Troye sighed, out of drowsiness more than anything,  going back and forth between glancing at Ray on the couch and rubbing his eyes, “I thought this whole thing was about trying to make sure he didn’t have to lose his Sightlessness.”

 

“ _Try_ is definitely our word of the day here,” Carrie smoothed hair out of Ray’s face, looking guilty.

 

“So when he wakes up…” Troye looked to Gerard.

 

“I can’t give you the best method for this,” Gerard said, apologetic, “Every Eccentric is different, especially when this happens, and the only Eccentric I’ve really even talked to is Joe.”

 

“And we don’t even know when he lost his Sightlessness,” Carrie nodded.

 

“Just…” Gerard crossed his arms, “Keep him calm, try not to get worked up along with him, a screaming match just means he’ll see more teeth and I don’t think that’s what he wants-”

 

“I am so lucky Tracy let me borrow her car,” Troye winced, “Got it, sorry Preacher, I’ll just…” He leaned to grab Ray and wrap his arms around his neck, “Oh hey, he’s actually heavy.”

 

“I can practically carry him like a baby, he’s light,” Carrie joked, but then paused, “Be gentle with him okay? We don’t know how much he saw of his friend, and we don’t know what happened when he collapsed… All the silent screaming kind of gives me the creeps.”

 

Troye hobbled over to the front door, nodding, “So what do I even tell him?”

 

“The truth, at least,” Gerard answered, his voice tight, “He’s owed that, now, if we know that whatever is happening to him has to do with us, he deserves any answers we can give him… and someplace familiar like the dorm.”

 

“Yeah maybe he won’t scream and start going all rogue hunter on me,” Troye maneuvered him through the door and Carrie rushed past to help get him into the car. Gerard took the moment to lean heavily against the wall.

 

The smell of blood from Ray’s scraped hands filled his throat and Gerard gasped for air, twisting to put his forehead against the wall and pushing away as Carrie returned.

 

“Well this isn’t concerning at all,” She said, “Gerard?”

 

Gerard blinked away the black dots that swirled in his vision and nodded.

 

“Are you okay?” She steadied him with a touch to his shoulder, “What’s been going on with you?”

 

“Nothing,” Gerard shook his head, “I’m worried about Ray.”

 

“So is everyone else,” She pushed, “But I don’t think worry is usually shown through bracing yourself because you smell blood.”

 

“Carrie-”

 

“Gerard!” She snapped, “Did you eat after the Dinner?”

 

“Of course I did-”

 

“Uh-huh,” She tilted her head, “And I went sunbathing yesterday, you know you become a threat when you go to long?”

 

“I’m not!” Gerard pushed her back, “It’s not even your business.”

 

“Now you actually sound twenty,” She let out an involuntary hiss, “How _irresponsible_ are you trying to be?! Is it some bet or-”

 

“I’m going home!”

 

“Or some _need_ for control?! You could have hurt Ray! Or Joe! Or anyone! And the Guild would be on us!” She yelled, following him close as he rushed to the hearse, “Don’t think I won’t call Father Schechter, Gerard, that’s the first thing I’m doing-” She slammed her hand against the car door before he could open it, “-Does Mikey even know?!”

 

“Mikey fucking hates me for all I _fucking_ care!”

 

She stepped back in shock and Gerard hissed.

 

“You goddamn idiot!” She yelled, “Son of a-I should slap you into next week! Where do even get off thinking that?! Piece of- Mikey thinks _you_ hate _him!”_

 

Gerard hurried into the car, seeing lights flicker on in her neighbor’s house, “Whatever game you’re trying to play Gerard! _You’ll lose!”_

 

“Take a day off tomorrow!” He slammed the car door shut and she screeched, her teeth bared and her gums red. For a second he was afraid she would jump on the hearse and break the windshield like a horror movie villain, but her neighbors yelled and her face shifted back to a Sightless look of guilt as she watched him peel away.

 

She took his advice and didn’t come in for work.

 

He picked up what little slack he could in his own small office, sorting through her paperwork and emails.

 

“Where’s Carrie?”

 

Mikey was at the door, hunched and staring at the floor, his parka zipped up to his neck.

 

“She took a day off,” Gerard looked down at the papers on his desk.

 

“Oh,” He shifted and wrung his hands. “Must be getting sick of us.” He tried to smile, letting out a short, quiet laugh at the end of his sentence. Gerard quirked his eyebrows and nodded once.

 

“Maybe,” He said.

 

“Hey, G, I’m-” He stepped into the room and then back out, and Gerard straightened to look at him. Mikey blanched, “I’m gonna take the hearse.”

 

“Oh,” It was Gerard’s turn to wring his hands, under table next to his bouncing leg. “Why?”

 

“I’m just-I’m… I’m going to stay somewhere else,” He pulled his shoulders in even more, “Just for a few days, I need the hearse.”

 

Gerard blinked, his chest feeling cold, “With Ryan?”

 

“No.” Mikey answered, he didn’t elaborate.

 

“Well where?” Gerard could barely breathe.

 

“Does it matter?” Mikey snapped.

 

They stared at each other for a moment.

 

Gerard waved his hand noncommittally, “I don’t need the hearse, just take it.”

 

Maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised when later he found the garage completely empty, save for the gas stains on the concrete.

 

Gerard softly banged his head on the door frame.

 

“Why are you like this.” He said, into air, glancing at his reflection in a puddle on the floor.

 

“Why am I like this?”

 

He asked Joe the same question when they sat down at the couch the very next day. It was strange, because Gerard felt no uncontrollable hunger when he was around Joe.

 

“Like what?”

 

It was nice, not feeling empty pains in his stomach for once.

 

“Like, the kind of guy who makes his brother move out.”

 

Joe shook his head, “You’re mad at each other, or he’s scared of making you mad again… You still don’t know why he did it.”  


“Ryan gave me a pretty good idea,” Gerard glared at the television, “He’s not even trying to apologize, and we’re back where we started and it’s _worse_ , at least when we used to fight we’d still talk or do something-”

 

“Yeah but now he snuck in and let that motherfucker Chris and his stupid ass friends in and let them steal blood,” Joe stressed, “He feels bad about it, he’s probably never seen you get that mad before…” He paused, wrestling with something, “I don’t know, I get these vibes sometimes, like I always think something means something else… Maybe… You’ve been together for a really long time, and then you get distant, and then this happens, _and_ he’s still a teenager, sort of… You want to be brothers again, so you keep trying to reach out, and then he does helps Chris, and _he_ thought maybe at some point you just wouldn’t be close anymore, he wanted to speed that along…” He picked at his fingernails, “He thinks you hate him now, so that plan went way too fast.”

 

Gerard hunched in his seat, “You sound like Carrie.”

 

Joe fiddled with the remote, “I had… I had a brother.”

 

Gerard cast a glance and Joe pursed his lips, “It’s that gap I told you about, I can’t remember.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Gerard said.

 

“Be sorry for yourself,” Joe answered, quickly, “I mean… No, sorry, I mean you shouldn’t, you’re digging the hole here.”

 

“Yeah,” Gerard repositioned himself on the couch, “I could probably fix this by just talking… He stopped by my office before he left and it was my _chance…_ And I couldn’t even look him in the eye without getting angry and just-just seeing him standing there with Chris and filling that duffel bag.”

 

A few ravens made a brief ruckus outside.

 

Someone yelled and Gerard’s thoughts halted, sitting up to look at the door to the church. “Was that Troye?”

 

“It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

 

“Yeah, but he’s been borrowing a car-” He stood and jumped over the back of the couch, “-And the payphone broke.”

 

Joe switched off the TV and got to his feet, “Not like there’s anything good on, maybe it’s that Macy jerk.”

 

They hurried out, Joe still clutching the remote for some reason. Ryan was unaware, vacuuming a meeting room with his headphones on, in his haste, Gerard mistook him for Mr. Cash. His clothes the same dark color and the same focused expression. He felt the silver cross bounce against his chest under his clothes.

 

Troye was quickly patting himself down when they found him, his clothes smouldering from the heat from his skin. “Ow! Ow, shit!” His cheek was burned ugly and, surprisingly, Carrie was there, trying to soothe him.

 

“It’ll heal! It’ll heal…” She shushed him, “It’s fine! It doesn’t even hurt your hair!”

 

“Troye,” Gerard’s voice shook, “I thought that was you… screaming.”

 

Carrie turned and took a sudden step back at the sight of Joe, but collected herself immediately, “He just came running in, didn’t even put his hood up.”

 

Troye whimpered and pawed at his rapidly healing cheek, Gerard winced out of sympathy, “Stupid… fucking _sun-_ ”

 

He gasped, “Ray! That’s why I came! He’s gone!”

 

“Just take a moment, Troye, seriously, bursting into flames isn’t a fun, relaxing activity,” Joe showed him his palms.

 

“Whatever,” Troye snapped, “I just woke up and poof! He’s gone! He could seriously be dead by now! Like he’s having an episode after all that drama in the graveyard!” He yelled, “It’s your stupid fault for resurrecting his dead best friend! I really worry about that guy! What if he’s walked into traffic!”

 

“Or!” Joe yelled back placing his hand on Troye’s shoulder, “Or, he’s at my apartment.”

 

Troye gave him a stare filled with fire, his cheek now pink with new skin, _“What.”_

 

“I really helped him out earlier, right?” Joe looked back at Gerard, “I could be a licensed therapist if I wasn’t busy with stuff like weed, maybe he went back to my place, I left him a key under my _accent plant_ by the door and I was at the gas station all night…”

 

“So he could be at Joe’s place, right, thank you,” Gerard nodded, feeling his own heart slow, “So, we can go and check there, Troye, just take a few deep breaths.”

 

“I’m gonna die from cardiac arrest from the stress this loser gives me, and vampirism won’t save me.”

 

Joe continued to talk him down from his stress and Gerard turned to Carrie at her desk.

 

“I thought you weren’t coming in.”

 

“Yeah, well,” She tapped out a few letters on her keyboard a little too hard. “I do have work to do.” She hesitated, “You’re still hungry,” She gave him a worried look, “And Joe-”

 

“I’m not gonna hurt Joe,” He interrupted, knowing it was true.

 

She nodded once.

 

Then sighed, “I realized… yesterday, the way I spoke to you was… disrespectful, considering what we are, and your age, which is still weird to me by the way, so I’m sorry for that.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“That doesn’t mean it’s not gonna hurt you,” Carrie insisted, eyes made of stone, “It’ll be more violent, and the Guild will be all over us if you-”

 

“Alright, I’ll drive! You know, since it’s my car.” Joe clapped his hands and handed Gerard his umbrella, leading him out the door. Carrie kept her eyes on them until they spilled into the back of Joe’s car, avoiding sunlight as best they could.

 

Gerard had gotten better at leaving the Church in the rearview since his trip to the grocery store earlier, his anxiety no longer spiked at the mere mention of leaving, and if he focused hard enough, he could still smell the orange and citrus of the Witch’s spell. But still, as it disappeared behind them, his friends’ gray eyes and wrapped fists intruded, and he set to wringing his hands and squeezing his wrists. Joe rambled on about something from the driver’s seat, giving him a noise to focus on, but Troye twitched nervously next to him, splitting his focus as they leaned away from the sun passing through the windows.

 

Joe’s apartment was a cheap, third floor arrangement that Gerard once heard Joe call: ‘The Big Brother Secret Shed’.

 

It was comfy, and not as messy as Gerard had once expected, but not clean either. It was organized and neat, but not that neat. Joe’s couch was old from a Goodwill, and it looked like it would have been more at home at some garage band house show rather than his one bathroom estate and when they entered Gerard noticed it had somehow acquired one more stain to it’s growing collection.Gerard gave it an eye and Joe snickered, embarrassed, “Diet Coke,” He answered Gerard’s raised eyebrows.

 

“Ray!” Troye wasted no time, interrupting Joe’s offer of some takeout noodles. “Ray! Are you here?”

 

No answer.

 

“Well he’s obviously not as smart as you _thought.”_ Troye kicked the leg of the couch, mumbling: “Film majors.”

 

Joe gave him an uncomfortable smile, “Maybe he stopped by? I wasn’t here so maybe he left.”

 

Troye made a few struggling gestures, “Do I… Do we? Do vampires… Can we smell? Can I sniff him out? Something?”

 

Gerard shook his head, “I think we can just smell fear and sweat and blood and stuff, not… track.”

 

“Yeah, sorry Troye, you’re not a Bloodhound,” Joe smiled while Troye clenched his jaw, “Hey! I’m gonna go in the other room and check my voicemail.”

 

“It’s gonna be fine, Troye,” Gerard soothed, “He’s a smart guy, like I said.”

 

“You’re not his roommate.”

 

“Oh shit!” Joe laughed in surprise, “I actually have a voicemail!”

 

“I have some idea on what that’s like,” Gerard gave him a weak smile.

 

The answering machine beeped and Gerard twitched, hearing Mikey’s voice come through.

 

 _“Hey, I’m glad this is the right number, what’s up, Joe? This is weird, but I know you know him… Um, I thought I saw Ray? Toro? You know the guy we think is cursed, just a heads up, I don’t know if he’s with anybody or… Or what, but if you wanted to know, he’s at the Motel Six just past the University, maybe he’s like… I mean I know he’s a film student so maybe he has an assignment, or maybe not.”_  He paused, _“Probably not, I don’t think he has that kind of luck.”_

 

The machine cut.

 

Troye took in a shaky breath, “The Motel Six…” He shifted, “Okay, okay-”

 

“You can stay here,” Gerard steadied him with a touch to his shoulder, “Joe and I can go and-”

 

“No way, he’s my friend, you’re the one that told me to keep an eye on him.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s me and Joe, that place hurt you,” Gerard looked back at Joe, who readied his keys, “I promised I would help him too.”

 

“No, no, I have to go now,” Troye zipped up his jacket, “Coming out is way scarier than some stupid Motel, I’m gay, let’s go.”

 

A beat, and Joe flipped his keys around, “Sounds good to me,” He paused, “And… If he’s just hanging out at this Motel for normal reasons and not weird supernatural reasons… let’s just leave him alone.”

 

Troye and Gerard voiced their agreement and quickly piled into the car.

 

It wasn’t until the Motel actually came into view that Troye seemed to have any regrets.

 

His shoulder twitched as they pulled into the parking lot and his eyes darting back and forth as if expecting an attack. Out of the corner of his eye, Gerard could see the hearse, parked behind a thick fence of shrubbery, and he debated feeling thankful that Mikey had decided to get away for awhile, and if he hadn’t, might not have ever known where to find Ray Toro.

 

Troye squeezed closer to him, maybe subconsciously, and Gerard didn’t stop him, leaning back to offer some sort of comfort.

 

And there was a blood red car parked close by.

 

A breath caught in his throat.

 

It was the same car, it had to be. His pulse quickened as Joe brought the car to a stop and he had to stop himself from jumping out of the car and into the hot sun to take a closer look.

 

But it had to be the same car, smeared with blood around the door handles, it’s trunk heavy with duffel bags as it had peeled out of the parking lot of the Lady of Thorns. Did Mikey know? Was it why he had chosen this Motel?

 

His voice shook, “Joe-”

 

“Hey, wait!” Joe whipped around in his seat to grab for Troye, who had opened the door and allowed sunlight to pour into the backseat. Gerard yelped as his hand burst into flames and twisted to pat it out as Joe grabbed the back of Troye’s hoodie, “Dumbass! The umbrella!”

 

Troye jumped back, grabbing at his nose and scrambling to open the umbrella.

 

Gerard’s hand twitched with ugly burn scars, melted skin quickly healing as he grabbed the umbrella from Troye and pushing him out of the car. “Sorry!” Troye winced, “I-I wasn’t thinking I-”

 

He looked to Joe, “Thanks.”

 

“It’s cool,” Joe nodded, “That freaks me out though… I mean the second Gerard felt sun-”

 

“Yeah.” Gerard cradled his hand, pink from healing. But his focus shifted back to the blood red car, “Look.”

 

Troye followed his gaze, “The car?”

 

“It’s Ricky’s car.”

 

“Friend of Chris?” Joe secured his sunglasses over his eyes.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Let’s not jump to any conclusions.” Joe turned to the entrance, sounding like he’d already landed.

 

The man at the rickety front desk was wearing a Metallica t-shirt and a blank expression to rival Mikey’s. Gerard wondered if they had had a contest when he’d arrived. “Hi!” He put on a smile as soon as he saw them, however, “Looking for a room?”

 

“Looking for someone, actually?” Joe leaned on the desk and smiled back, “Dude, love your shirt by the way.”

 

“Thanks,” He tilted her head, “And I’m not allowed to really give anyone’s rooms away, safety issues.”

 

“Yeah, no I totally get it,” He shook his head, “But maybe you can make an exception? I have a good reason.”

 

Gerard let their talking fade to background noise when the elevator dinged.

 

“It better be an extremely good reason,” He laughed and Joe laughed back, Troye rolled his eyes.

 

And Mikey and Gerard locked eyes.

 

Mikey froze, his hand hovering over the buttons in the elevator.

 

Troye leaned in, just as confused.

 

Mikey pointed up.

 

Gerard frowned.

 

Mikey pointed up more furiously.

 

Troye and Gerard exchanged a look.

 

Then followed Mikey into the elevator.

 

A sharp _ding!_ Sounded as the doors closed and Mikey pressed the button for floor three, which flickered with a broken light. Troye picked at the hem of his jacket, squeezing into himself as he stared at the wood paneling of the compartment. Quiet muzak played from the speaker suspended in the corner as Troye straightened, “Wait, why did we leave Joe?”

 

Mikey opened his mouth but Gerard already knew what he was going to say.

 

“This might get hairy.”

 

“Oh,” Troye pressed a thumb into his palm.

 

Mikey cast Gerard a look.

 

“I know what you’re gonna want to say,” Mikey held out his hand defensively and Gerard tilted his head, raising his brow, “I didn’t know they were here-”

 

“Who? That guy Ricky? And Chris?” Troye looked nervously between them.

 

“Ricky and Vinny,” Mikey corrected, “I don’t know where Chris is, not since I split, but I swear I didn’t know they were here, I went out for something to eat, and when I came back, their car was here… I figured I would spy on them, that was when I saw Ray.”

 

Troye jumped, “Do you know why he’s here?”

 

“No,” Mikey shook his head, “But he’s definitely not all there.”

 

He swirled his finger by his ear to emphasize his point.

 

_Ding!_

 

Troye’s expression turned to panic, “Do you think it has anything to do with your friends being here too?”

 

Mikey and Gerard whipped around just in time to see Ray get dragged around a corner, his jeans scuffed and dirty, he was missing a shoe and it looked like he had been swimming in the pool downstairs.

 

“What are the chances?” Mikey laughed, nervous.

 

They hurried after Ray, keeping quiet and leaning against walls. Troye shivered, most likely holding back the need to run and never come back.

 

There was a hiss and the sound of a door being unlocked, “God, shit, his hair is on me.”

 

“Shut up, maybe you shouldn’t have pushed him in the pool then, idiot!”

 

Gerard looked to Mikey, who nodded.

 

Ricky and Vinny.

 

“Maybe you should have actually restrained him, asshole!” It was Vinny, hissing at the stone-faced Ricky, Gerard spent barely a second glancing around the corner to see. Ray was on the ground, sopping wet and out cold. Next to him, Troye took a step forward, the floor creaked, and he froze, Ricky’s body going rigid.

 

“Someone’s up here, get him inside,” Ricky chastised and Gerard heard Vinny groan.

 

“His _hair_ is on me!”

 

“Try cleaning the drains, _move it!”_

 

A scuffle, and the door shut.

 

Ricky hadn’t gone in.

 

Instead, he began making his way down the hall as slowly as he could, the floor creaking with every step. Gerard held his breath and Mikey went rigid, pulling at his hair for a second then stepping like a robot into view.

 

Gerard could have screamed.

 

“Mikey,” Ricky’s voice went tight, _“Mikey!”_

 

“Hey, Rick,” Mikey’s hands shook, “What are you doing with that Sightless?”

 

Troye’s hand squeezed down on Gerard’s arm and he stumbled forward, “What do you want with Ray you piece of shit!”

 

“Like you deserve to know, asshole.”

 

“You kidnapped him?” Mikey pushed, “Or what? You know the Guild has strings here?”

 

“The Guild is a bunch of dumb bastards, and who would know to report it?”

 

“I would!” Troye hissed, pulling his lips back to show teeth. “He’s not your bloodbag!”

 

“You’re barely past Fresh-Turned, what do you know about the Guild?” Mikey stepped in front of Troye and made a small gesture in Gerard’s direction, “Just let him go before you get Ashed.”

 

“Not a problem, old man,” Ricky spat, “Put the teeth away-” Mikey and Troye took a sudden step back, fear lining their expressions, Gerard startled, his shoulders pulling back, “-I’ll ash you myself-”

 

Gerard leapt in front of Mikey as Ricky thrust, not himself forward, no teeth or claws, but a carved wooden cross. Mikey grabbed Gerard’s shoulder and ducked, pulling Troye closer as Ricky sneered, “ _contra, lamian!”_

 

The air bent and pressed against Gerard’s chest, forcing him to take a step back. Mikey’s grip tightened on his shoulder, jerking back but still planted to the ground. Ricky’s face contorted in confusion, “Wha-”

 

Gerard hissed, “I’m a man of _God_ , you son of a bitch!”

 

Ricky dropped the cross and it clattered to the floor, Mikey rasped: _“Guilder.”_

 

“Holy words don’t touch me,” Gerard swung his arm to hold back Mikey.

 

 _“You lied! Dracula!”_ Mikey hissed and spat at Ricky’s feet, “Guilder!”

 

 _“Bite me_ , catholic boy,” Ricky sneered, “I’m not one of those fucking cowards-” A door opened, most likely to inspect the racket they were making, and Ricky pulled a throwing knife from the sleeve of his jacket, embedding it into the frame, and the door slammed shut.

 

“Get past him,” Mikey planted himself and let go of Gerard, Ricky hissed as if to mock him, and now that Gerard knew he had been lying, it curled his fingers with disgust. _“I’ll turn him if I have to.”_

 

He moved so fast that dust flew from the floor where Mikey had stood, lingering in the air. Ricky bent low, following a Guild move to dodge but was pushed against the wall before he could set himself. Mikey’s teeth, both his fangs and his bottom canines, shined, his eyes black with rage. Cracks formed in the wall and Gerard rushed forward, minding Troye behind him.

 

The door was barely there according to his strength.

 

Vinny was already on alert, having heard Mikey and Ricky slam against the wall, and met Gerard the moment he entered, sending the both of them into an animalistic fight of twists and snarls. The room was dark, the blinds reinforced with cardboard and duct tape and Vinny’s eyes were glowing like a dog’s, green circles that Gerard slashed at to correct.

 

Ricky crashed through the wall and into the apartment, taking a chunk out of the door frame as he impacted with the ubiquitous motel room desk. He groaned and Troye dodged past him as he rolled to grab a splintered desk leg. Gerard threw Vinny off and leapt to wrestle the makeshift weapon away from him as Mikey jumped to push off the wall, quickly gliding to intercept Vinny as he twisted to slash at Gerard’s back.

 

Troye slammed the door to the bathroom behind him.

 

Ricky grunted and pulled another Sleeve Knife into Gerard’s thigh and he howled, distracted enough for Ricky to pull himself away. The wound popped and sizzled, holy water connecting with his skin.

 

It would have been worse for Mikey and Troye, whose blood would have boiled at it’s touch.

 

He pulled it out and stood, intending to turn Ricky’s weapon against him until Mikey collided with him, having been thrown by Vinny. They landed, squashed into one of the two beds, unmade and creaking with springs. The TV remote jammed into Gerard’s hip and he yelled, bending away and bouncing into Mikey, who scrambled to jump onto Ricky. The TV clicked on, to some update on the San Antonio Missions, and Vinny screeched: _“Fuck! They’re losing!”_

 

Gerard stood, breathing heavily, on the bed, making to jump on Vinny while he was distracted until light from the bathroom flooded into the room. _“Contra, lamian!”_

 

Mikey was thrown to the floor and groaned, his nose running with black blood. Gerard jumped to Ricky instead, digging his nails into his scalp and balancing sitting on his shoulders. Ricky grunted, falling backward to try and shake him off, crashing into the TV and turning the picture into static and clipped baseball updates. Mikey coughed and Gerard could hear the elevator chime from down the hall.

 

Vinny ran to pull them apart and as they twisted Gerard caught sight of Troye, frozen in place in the entrance to the bathroom. He was staring into the static, supporting a barely conscious Ray Toro.

 

“Troye!” Mikey wheezed, “Snap out of it!”  
  
“I-” Troye’s voice shook, “I was-”

 

Vinny suddenly froze, his face contorted into a sinister grin. Gerard pushed Ricky to the floor just as Vinny sped and grabbed Troye by the face, covering his mouth and pushing him into a wall. Troye could only stare ahead at the static, eyes welling with tears.

 

Gerard froze, his hand around Ricky’s throat.

 

Vinny leaned close to Troye, his face gentle against Troye’s neck.

 

“I wasn’t even gonna bother trying to find you,” Vinny licked his lips, “And here you are finding me.”

 

Gerard blinked away his anger and adrenaline, “Troye-”

 

“Don’t move, Preacher, or I’ll kill him right now.”

 

Vinny’s movements were quick and possessive, sharp even when they were soft. “My Patron was so wrong about how I would feel, I mean he just goes on and on about this... how when he turned us, he would just go so fucking crazy if anyone even looked at us…” He tilted his head, almost examining Troye, who’s tears ran red like blood down his cheeks, “Guess I wanted to try it out.” He pushed Troye harder into the wall, “He was wrong, though… I don’t feel _shit.”_

 

Mikey sat up, his joints clicking as his bones knitted themselves back together, “Will you shut the fuck up about your Patron for like, _two seconds?”_

 

He exchanged a short glance with Gerard.

 

Gerard nodded in understanding, and braced himself, still holding Ricky by the neck.

 

Until-

 

“You left me downstairs!” Joe stepped into the room, startling Vinny and making his eyes go black, letting go of Troye and jumping toward him, snarling. Joe screamed and fell backward just Gerard grabbed Vinny and threw him to the floor, Mikey traded places and promptly knocked Ricky unconscious.

 

Troye slid down the wall to the floor, curling into himself and wrapping his arms around his knees.

 

Gerard straddled Vinny, pressing him into the floor so hard the floor began to crack underneath him. He snarled, and Gerard bared his teeth, almost screaming for him to stop.

 

 _“Get the fuck out of San Antonio!”_  Gerard put as much weight as he could behind his words and Vinny blinked in surprise, fear contorting his snarl, _“Get the fuck out and never come back!”_

 

Vinny scrambled out from under him, Influence ringing in his ears, and took off, down the hall.

 

“Vince!” Ricky struggled, “Vinny!” Mikey released his grip and Ricky stumbled after him, blood running from his nose, “Vince! The sun!” The smell of it sent Gerard’s head spinning.

 

“G,” Mikey immediately stepped forward, seeing him become dazed.

 

“I'm fine,” He tried to blink away the burning in his eyes, swaying in place as Ray Toro’s heart beat in his ears, “I-” He gasped for air, stumbling until Joe caught him by his arm.

 

“Nuh-uh,” Mikey shook his head, “Joe… Just take a step back.”

 

Joe hesitated, “But-”

 

Gerard ripped his arm away and he stepped back, “Just give me a _minute-_ ” He felt his eyes shift and Mikey gave him a hefty shove back into the bathroom. He realized he had been reaching toward Ray, still unconscious in the arms of Troye.

 

“There’s blood under the sink,” Mikey squared his shoulders and Gerard could barely hold back his snarl, “Okay? G? There’s blood under there, I-I know because-because Vinny stayed with Chris, and that’s wh-where they put it-” Gerard squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his palms to his temples and trying to breathe. Mikey’s hands shook furiously and Joe grabbed the door behind him, watching the exchange with wide eyes.

 

Gerard let his arms fall slowly to his sides, staring at the linoleum as Mikey took a shaking step past him to the sink. The world became a collection of buzzing lights and heartbeats, his breathing shallow and his fingers twitching, he watched Mikey step back in front of him. He whispered something innocuous to Joe and Gerard followed the smell of blood back to Ray Toro, making a move to step closer.

 

“G,” Mikey held some plastic up in between them and Gerard made a move to bat it away, his fingers twitching. Mikey took a step back.

 

Gerard clacked his teeth, trying to piece a sound together at the tip of his tongue, “M-”

 

Mikey ripped the blood bag open, sending it splattering to the floor, and Gerard’s vision went black.

 

* * *

 

 

_“I got your message, and I’ve sent the package._

_You’re right, it’s becoming a problem, maybe_

_he’d be interested… We’ll get the other two like_

_he asked, and bring them along.”_

 

 

  * **_**_Voicemail stored in a trashed Nokia phone, San Antonio, Texas._**_**



 

 

* * *

 

 

“-So Ms. Parton was thinking about maybe bringing more of a Whitney Houston thing to the choir, ‘cause all of the other choir’s- I mean this is what she said- She said all the other groups go for this weird pop vibe, and Carrie really wants them to bring in an electric guitar, which she can play-”

 

Mikey’s voice faded out as soon as he heard it, muffled behind a door that dented at odd angles and splintering into his back. He groaned, or tried to, his throat raw and scratchy.

 

“- So I told her maybe she could write some original songs?”

 

He was sitting in something sticky, which wasn’t the best situation, but his legs wouldn’t work and the light coming from above the bathroom mirror was too bright.

 

“And turns out she already had, and they’re all amazing, like she’s crazy talented, and she played it off like living that long gave her practice or something, no way, she could put out an album every year for the next 50 years if she wanted-”

 

His eyes grew adjusted to the light.

 

Blood and plastic was splattered everywhere, around him in a wide arc, and dripping from the vanity, sprayed in a maroon rainbow across the walls and even on the ceiling. The cupboards had been ripped from the sink and the mirror was shattered. Remnants of a tiny plastic cooler were scattered throughout the bathroom, but the toilet, miraculously, was unharmed.

 

“Especially this one where it’s all guitar and drumbox-”

 

“Mikey,” Gerard groaned and Mikey halted, scrambling to his feet. Gerard could hear him movie a bunch of stuff away from the door as he struggled to stand. Then the door opened with a flash and Mikey crashed into him, hugging him tight.

 

Gerard stumbled back, his boots sticking to the drying blood.

 

He hugged Mikey back and Mikey stiffened, pushing away and patting him on the shoulder, “Uh, yeah, you took forever.”

 

Gerard felt heavy, but he snorted, “Whatever…” He looked down at the stained linoleum and bit his lip, “I’m sorry.”

 

Mikey pushed him, “I’m supposed to say that.”

 

“Well I forgive you,” Gerard snorted.

 

MIkey stopped and shoved his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t wearing his parka, so he looked thin and awkward, his shirt wrinkled and his jeans ripped and faded. “I don’t usually feel like I have to say sorry or anything...it was weirder this time though, I thought you hated me.”

 

“I thought _you_ hated me.”

 

“I talked to Carrie and she said you thought I didn’t want to be around the Church anymore,” Mikey scratched the back of his head, “I didn’t think she was right.”

 

Gerard nodded, “New thing, let’s just listen to Carrie from now on.” Mikey gave a breath of laughter.

 

“Yeah.”

 

He looked down at the extremely gross bathroom floor and said: “This is extremely gross.”

 

“I said I was sorry.” Gerard yawned, not wanting to look and instead keeping his eyes on a crack in the wall behind Mikey.

 

“How...no, I know how long…” Mikey hesitated, “Why? I mean I know you go like this all the time, but never enough to Blackout… Why are you doing this?”

 

Gerard sighed and stepped past him to fall to the bed, staring up at the popcorn ceiling.

 

Mikey copied him on the opposite side, “I mean it’s so stupid, but not stupid because you obviously have a reason, so I just never asked, but now it’s bad, so it’s stupid!”

 

“I know.” Gerard said, wanting to close his eyes and never wake up.

 

Mikey sat back up and Gerard silently thanked him for not pushing, maybe some weird cryptophasia that let him know the answers wouldn’t come just yet. He sighed and paced, leaving Gerard to trace his eyes over a brown stain at the corner of the ceiling. “I Influenced the guy at the front desk.”

 

Gerard blinked and sat up, “Really? That’s… that’s great Mikey,” Mikey shrugged, embarrassed, “I mean, I know you have trouble with that.”

 

“Yeah, but it was easy,” He said, leaning back against the desk, “I just told imr we were shooting a movie or whatever so we needed to break some stuff… He believed me, and went all blank like he was on that laughing gas stuff, so I don’t really like that part.”

 

Gerard nodded, “That’s good, we’ll have to call for cleanup.”

 

“What, from the Guild?” Mikey frowned.

 

“It can be anonymous, it’s just a hotline, they have a payphone down in the lobby.” He paused, trying to remember the number for the hotline, and looked around the room. “Where’s Joe? Did Troye get Ray out?”

 

“Joe wanted to stay, but I told him it would take a while,” Mikey gestured out the door, “He got Troye back to campus, and Troye said he thought it would be better if Ray stayed with him, since Joe’s human… I went downstairs to call his apartment, and Ray was awake… He said he wanted to talk to us.”

 

“Us?”

 

“That’s what _I_ said,” Mikey tapped his hand against his chest, “I have nothing to do with this, unlike _somebody,_ who made him an Eccentric.”

 

Gerard smacked him on the arm, “You still have to go.”

 

Mikey groaned and fell face first onto the bed, when he complained, it was muffled and Gerard didn’t expend too much energy trying to understand him.

 

He turned back to the bathroom, and the chunk taken out of the wall near the door, which had been propped shut, the hole in the wall stuffed with pillows. Gerard hummed finally remembering the number and tapping it onto his palm with his fingertips. “We get over there, we _try_ to make Ray see that we meant to help and not drive him insane, then we talk.”

 

“About?”

 

“Chris, and his Patron’s sudden need to ruin our lives.”

 

Mikey clucked his tongue and nodded, “Right.”

 

When they entered the lobby, the lguy only had eyes for Mikey, reaching over the desk and sliding a hand down his arm so he could clutch his hand. His expression twisted momentarily to discomfort, then gave him an uncomfortable smile, “I’m so sorry, but do you-” he looked back at Gerard near the payphone and Gerard mouthed the price back at him, Mikey shook his head, not understanding, then turned back to him. “-Do you have any change for the payphone, sorry.”

 

“No, no! Never apologize to me!” He reached back and grabbed his wallet, “I’ll do anything for you.”

 

“Please don’t,” Mikey grimaced.

 

He handed him the change, “Do you need anything else? You can take out of our register if you want-”

 

“No, no thanks, um,” He started to walk backward away from him, “We’re just calling for the cleanup to fix the room, um, when they do that, and they leave… can you, uh, forget about me?”

 

“It’ll be like you never existed,” He nodded, smiling wistfully.

 

“Great, bye.”

 

He shoved the change at Gerard, almost throwing it at him and squeezing in next to him in the booth, “Okay, call now, please so I can get out of here.”

 

“That’s why I don’t like doing that,” Gerard listened to the coins as they rattled into the machine and Mikey nodded.

 

“Mmhm, I get it, I won’t ask you to do it again.”

 

Gerard put the receiver to his ear and smiled, “Why, thank you.”

 

“Shut up and call, now.”

 

A serene woman’s voice came through as the automated answer and Mikey pressed in close to listen. She listed off the nearest chapters, instructing them to press one, then listed: _“For inquiries concerning lamia, vampires, and any other bloodsucking creature, please press two.”_

 

Mikey pressed it for him.

 

 _“Thank you for calling, your call is important to us, and may be recorded for training purposes, for any questions involving: Hunting, Tracking, and Emotional Support in the event of any so-called ‘rogue’ vampire, please press one. For locating any Trusts in your area for assistance and help with any in-depth research, please press two.”_ Mikey rolled his eyes and cycled his hand, begging for the line to hurry.

 

_“If you are a vampire, seeking any form of assistance, press three.”_

 

Mikey jammed his finger into the three.

 

The line paused, clicked, and reconnected.

 

A different voice came through, a different woman, a recording instead of a robot.

 

_“For cleanup, press one.”_

 

_“Thank you for calling, I understand this wasn’t your fault, and the Guild works to ensure your hunger is not a crime and would like to apologize for any involvement it might have had in preventing you from receiving the proper blood._

 

_Please leave a short description of your situation, the address, and extent of the damages. You will not be asked for your name, or to stay. Thank you for your trust, and our nearest cleanup crew will arrive as soon as possible.”_

 

Gerard huddled in to whisper into the phone, “San Antonio, Texas, Motel Six on the North Side… It’s by all the gay clubs? You know the one.” He looked back at Mikey, who shrugged. “Um… Third floor, room 116, you’ll know it, it has a huge whole in it, the Blackout was after a fight, no Sightless involved except the man at the front desk who was influenced… The fight was with one other vampire and… And a defected hunter, a Dracula, pretending to be one of us.” Gerard’s blood boiled just thinking about it. “He goes by Ricky-” He looked to Mikey who whispered: _“Olson.”_

 

“-Ricky Olson, I hope you break his legs.” Gerard slammed the phone down and Mikey led him to the exit.

 

“It got cloudy all of a sudden,” He waved goodbye to the man and didn’t look back, “With any luck it’ll rain and we won’t have to worry about rain-” He halted and dug in the pockets of his parka, “-Here, for any sun getting through.” It was his umbrella perfectly safe and sound.

 

“That thing is indestructible.”

 

“Thanks.” He popped it open for a stray bit of sunshine through a break in the clouds, and they pulled out of the parking lot.

 

It was halfway to Joe’s that Gerard asked: “Ryan told me about Chris and his Patron.”

 

Mikey shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road, hands tight on the wheel, “He’s a piece of shit, I mean I was friends with him but he was still a piece of shit.”

 

Gerard smiled, “So now that Vince is gone, he’ll only have Balz and Ricky, maybe we could get our blood back?”

 

Mikey shook his head, “He’s probably sent it out already, back to his Patron.” He made a sharp turn and a black van without windows passed by, drawing their attention, “Think that’s them?”

 

“They must have been close by…” Gerard shifted in his seat, “Maybe Ricky Olson got their attention.”

 

Mikey hummed, “Chris’ll get out as soon as he can then, probably to go back to his Patron, he’s fucking brainwashed, it’s all he ever talked about.”

 

“Ryan mentioned Mexico.”

 

“Good riddance,” Mikey shrugged, then his face went sour, “Chris _knew_ about Ricky, the whole time, _that’s_ why he didn’t like him as much, he always talked about how much of a poser he was, I thought he was talking about how Fresh he was.”

 

“So we have a gang of Fresh-Turned, brainwashed and stealing for their Patron, teaming up with a Dracula and trying to get other Fresh-Turned on their side,” Gerard counted on his fingers as it started to sprinkle outside.

 

“Like a conspiracy or something,” Mikey nodded.

 

“Yeah, and we’re no Mulder and Scully,” Gerard crossed his arms, “I want them out of San Antonio.”

 

“They’ll be out soon,” Mikey assured, “We just avoid them and they go running back to Mexico, especially if the Guild starts looking for Ricky.”

 

Mikey pulled into the parking lot and parked haphazardly close to the door and buzzed for Joe’s apartment. “Hey, after this we can go get groceries.”

 

“Please,” Gerard grabbed his shoulder and shook him, “Holy shit-”

 

 _“Gerroff-!”_ Mikey grunted, snorting and trying to shove him off, “Jerk.”

 

“You starved me of breakfast cereal for weeks-!” Gerard shoved him back and the door unlocked with Joe’s voice coming through the speaker: _“Come on up!”_   


He attack hugged Gerard the second Mikey had rapped his knuckles on the door, barely waiting for Mikey to step back, “I didn’t even know! I’m so sorry-”

 

“Joe-!” Gerard spluttered, trying to spit hair off of his tongue, “No, don’t-”

 

“I mean you totally could have killed me!” They stumbled back and Gerard finally hugged him back. “But I’m so sorry! I-”

 

“Joe-” Gerard smiled, almost bashful, “No way I’d ever kill you, it’s not your fault I-will you get off oh my-” He pushed Joe off, spitting hair, “You did great, getting Troye and Ray out.”

 

Joe batted his hand, “Okay, okay, get in-Mikey!” He wrapped Mikey in another hug, “I’m so glad you guys made up-”

 

“Ow,” Mikey waddled back into the apartment with Joe still clinging to him.

 

Joe pushed him back and turned back to Gerard, “And you’re okay now? Should you eat something? Troye found a dealer out early-”

 

“No, no, I’ll be fine for right now,” Gerard showed him his palms and felt like crying, seeing Joe so worried. Instead of traumatized or hesitating, Gerard felt a burst of affection for his friend, “Thank you, Joe.”

 

Joe softened further, “No problem… sorry I can’t do anything.”

 

“I don’t need you to,” Gerard shook his head, “You do enough already.”

 

Mikey shuffled in place, pulling his arms into his parka, “Yeah, you’re the best, Joe.”

 

Gerard was totally prepared to blast Joe with as many compliments as possible until the end of time, until movement to his left diverted his attention.

 

Ray Toro, dressed in Joe’s pajamas, stood in the hallway, exhausted beyond belief.

 

Gerard took a small step toward him, “Ray-”

 

Ray squeezed his arms around his torso and Joe leapt into action, “He fell asleep as soon as we got here, I mean I gave him my clothes, but you’ve been out pretty much this whole time.”

 

“I thought you said he asked for us?” Mikey questioned.

 

“I did.” Ray nodded, his voice scratchy and thin, “Earlier in the car, I was barely there.”

 

Gerard nodded, “Listen, Ray, I _never_ meant for this, any of this to happen-”

 

“I know.” He sighed, staring down at the floor, “Neither did I.”

 

“But-” Gerard huffed, “It doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop helping you, and now you can get the full answer you’re looking for.”

 

Ray shook his head, confusion lacing his face, “I just don’t get any of this, at all,” He looked up at Gerard, “I don’t understand what I’m seeing or doing or _why-_ ” He made a clawing motion at his throat, “-Why I have this awful feeling in my throat like something is trying to crawl it’s out of me whenever I have these _fucking_ episodes and I don’t-” He thrust his arms out, “-I don’t know what’s going on.”

 

“I can try and give you answers, so can Mikey, and Joe, whatever you want to ask.” Gerard took a seat on the chair facing Joe’s couch and Mikey mirrored him, leaning against a wall as Joe gestured at Ray to sit next to him on the couch. Ray paused, desperation flickering over his features, then sat, clasping his hands tight on top of his knees.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Tell us everything,” Gerard said, “Everything you’ve been going through, and we can help.”

 

Ray sighed and looked to Joe, who nodded encouragingly, “I… It started with Brendan.”

 

He walked Gerard through the first time he’d ever dreamed about Brendan’s death, to the first episode. He stressed the feeling of raw and visceral awareness he felt whenever they happened, “I’m all there, but I’m not, and I want to do these things and go to all these places, it’s real…” Ray paused, scratching under his cast, “Like the first time I went to the church, I _had_ to go, and see you, and there’s still this thing in my throat that I have get out, but it won’t go away no matter what I do.”

 

He told them about losing time, ending up in places he’d only ever passed in his dreams, or suddenly becoming aware of being in a class he couldn’t remember traveling to.

 

“It’s like I’m being cut around, like someone’s tearing pages out and I have to get by on context but haven’t even read the first book.” His hands shook, “My mom told me I never call, or I’ll just leave voicemails that don’t make any sense, I told her it was stress but I remember calling her and having full conversations.”

 

Mikey nodded, “Why do you think you went to us? To the church, or the Motel?”

 

Ray shrugged listlessly, “I needed to… I needed to find you,” He looked to Gerard, “I don’t know why.”

 

Joe steadied a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Even at the cemetary, not just for, I don’t think it was for Brendan at all, I just needed to find something.”

 

He paused, “That was real, right? That was really Brendan? And you guys are really-” He swallowed hard, “Are you really vampires?”

 

Gerard tried to tread lightly, “Ray-”

 

“Yeah,” Mikey nodded, “We are.”

 

“Not, like you think, Ray,” Gerard gave Mikey a dirty look, “We’re not hundreds of years old or turn into bats, we’re not Lestat and Louis, or anything like.”

 

“Who?” Joe frowned at him and Gerard sighed.

 

“Interview With a Vampire?”

 

Joe shook his head.

 

“Anne Rice, dude, Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt?”

 

“I know it,” Ray raised his hand.

 

“Right,” Gerard gave Joe a pointed look.

 

“It’s a good movie,” Mikey added, shrugged, “What? They got some stuff right.”

 

“Yeah, anyways… Yes, Ray, we’re vampires, Brendan was really there, that burning in your eyes when you saw him and Carrie? That was your Sightlessness being burned away, you see the whole picture.”

 

Ray had a small panic, glancing down at the floor, “How-How old are you?”

 

“20,” Gerard answered simply.

 

“No,” Ray shook his head and gave him a hard stare, “Really?”

 

“My birthday is April 7th, 1941,” Gerard kept his eye contact, “Technically, I’m 64 years old.”

 

“60,” Mikey added.

 

Ray’s expression was unreadable as he swung around to face Joe.

 

“No worries man, I told you, 21, the real thing,” He showed his palms, “I’m just an Eccentric.”

 

Ray folded inward, his face against his knees.

 

“Oh dude,” Joe pleaded, “It’s gonna be okay, honestly I kind of forget it until they do something really vampirey, you barely think about it after a while.”

 

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” Ray said, his voice muffled, “Because of course I believe you, after all that-” He took a deep breath and sat up, “I can’t just say you’re just feeding my delusions.”

 

“Are you having delusions?” Mikey asked, Gerard shushed him angrily.

 

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” Ray touched his throat, wrapping his fingers around as if he was choking, “I can’t take it.”

 

“I’ll do everything I can, Ray, I swear,” Gerard insisted, “This won’t be your life.”

 

They sat and talked a while longer, Ray taking them through his episodes and trying to answer their questions. Gerard and Mikey answered his own questions as best they could, confirming and denying decades of vampire lore, Gerard felt guilty for thinking it was just a little fun, especially when Joe would jump in with some ridiculous fabrication that would cause Mikey to jump in and argue with him. Ray began to look more and more at ease adjusting to reality, until Gerard sat up straight and asked him about his dreams.

 

He stiffened, “I mean… I told you, I-”

 

“I know, they show you death,” Gerard soothed, “But what are they like? How do they play out?”

 

Ray avoided making eye contact, his knee bouncing up and down, “I… I don’t-” He sighed, “it’s always different, just… static, and sometimes I’ll see… I’ll see the roses outside the church, or I’ll see blood, or faces that I don’t recognize, just flashes of stuff that get distorted, and I’ll hear talking, or yelling, but I can never understand it… There’s nothing scary about them, but-” He shook his head, “-But they’re terrifying.”

 

Gerard nodded, “And when you wake up, and you go to these places, what does that feel like?”

 

“Like…” Ray searched for the words for a moment, “Like, I’m still in control, I feel like I’m walking normally and the ground will stretch under me, I feel fine until I actually get there, like when I was at the Lacrosse field, I remember that, but not how you do… I remember getting up and deciding to go, out of my own free will, like I was gonna meet someone for an appointment… And that as it, until I stepped onto the field.”

 

“How did it feel on the field?” Mikey asked, quiet with anticipation.

 

“Like the Shining, or something,” He wrung his hands, “And the air tightened and the ground… It twisted and there were these hands, just pulling out of the ground, and someone was whispering… I couldn’t hear anything else until this gun went off in my ear and-”

 

He tensed, breathing in a sharp snap of air, his eyes went wide with terror, “I can’t remember- I-I can’t-” He wrapped his arms around his torso, “-There was this thing in front of me and it-it was _covered-_ It was in my mouth- I can’t remember what it looked like-but it was covered in blood-” He halted, looking down at his hands as if he could still see it on his palms and Gerard stopped him.

 

“You don’t have to keep going,” He said, feeling guilty, “Ray, I just want to know if you… Do you know why? Why you keep going after me? Or Brendan? Do you have any idea?”

 

Ray picked at the cast around his wrist, shaking his head, “No… No, I don’t know, it’s all awful.”

 

They continued, slowly, answering more of Ray’s questions about themselves and the Guild. Until they asked him if he wanted a ride back to campus.

 

Ray blanched, “Um,” He looked to Joe, “If it’s okay, can I just stay in your guest room? I won’t bother you-”

 

“Of course!” Joe nodded, “I don’t care, whatever you need, and I can keep a better eye on you than Troye since I’m like, always here… And it might be safer than a college dorm, I can get you to classes tomorrow and pick up some clothes for a few days.”

 

“As long as you’re okay,” Gerard nodded, “I trust Joe.”

 

Joe smiled.

 

“Thank you, Preacher,” Ray looked up at him, “I don’t know anyone else that would do this for me.”

 

Outside, rain pattered onto the sidewalk, slicking up the roads and turning the sky gray. Mikey flicked the headlights on as they pulled away from the apartment complex, waving goodbye to Joe in the window and looking up at the clouds rolling over. Thunder rumbled in Gerard’s chest as they made their way back onto the main drag.

 

Mikey sighed when they came to a stoplight, the windshield wipers squeaking against the glass. On the radio, some shrill pop song was trying to break through the static, spurred on by Mikey tapping his fingers to the beat. “So I was thinking.”

 

Gerard leaned against his fist on the door, “Hm.”

 

“Yeah,” Mikey shrugged, “About Chris, mostly, and everything… Why does his Patron want all of this? Why put his Wards through this, especially if they’re Fresh and easier to catch?”

 

“Oh,” Gerard stuffed his fist into his mouth.

 

Mikey cast a few quick looks his way, “What- What is that? What is that look?”

 

“I-” Gerard took his fist out of his mouth, “I was talking to Mr. Cash.”

 

Mikey waited. “Yeah, and?”

 

“It relates to a topic.”

 

“Oh, this was in confession,” Mikey tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, pursing his lips in a brief show of annoyance, “Okay… Was he descriptive?”

 

“He was brief.”

 

“He was always brief,” Mikey stressed, “Did he… can you...please?”

 

“It wasn’t detailed! If I can use it, I will- Oh! He gave me this,” Gerard pulled the silver cross out from under his shirt, “That was outside confession!” He let Mikey take a look and stuffed it back under his shirt, “But… I can say that I think… He knew more than he ever let on, and he thinks he has to work alone because of it.”

 

The Church finally came into view and Gerard felt a few hundred pounds lift from his shoulders.

 

“We forgot to ask him one question,” Mikey said after a moment of silence, “Ray, I mean.”

 

“Mmhm?”

 

“Why did Vinny and Ricky kidnap him?” Mikey pulled the hearse into the garage, “Why tie him up and even jump into the pool to catch him? What do they want him for?”  


Gerard couldn’t answer.

 

Carrie hugged them both tight when they made their way back to the office, “Troye called me when he got back on campus,” She stepped back and hit Gerard around the back of the head, “You’re _lucky_ I wasn’t there, I would’ve Ashed you myself!” She paused, then hugged him again, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there!”

 

“T-To Ash me?” Gerard patted her on the back, rubbing his head with his other hand. She shook her head.

 

“You ran into a Guilder?” She smoothed his hair back out of his face and turned to Mikey and did the same, “A Dracula, too? A fight, then a Blackout… God I worry about you boys like your own mother, and then you made up without me?!” She squeezed Mikey as hard as she could, “I love you two to pieces but just being around you is a rollercoaster-I just-” She took a breath, “I just want to get ready for Sunday’s service and not fight off some crazy vampire with no understanding of code.”

 

Gerard tensed, “I gotta write the homily, He groaned, “Shit shit- I was so busy with… you!” He pointed at Mikey, “I didn’t even look at the schedule.”

 

“Are we even gonna have a service?” Mikey asked, “No one’s gonna show up.”

 

“What?” Carrie snapped, already in work mode, “This is Texas, we do live in Texas right? Just because they know about you and the blood doesn’t mean they’re not gonna go to Church.” Mikey deflated, stoic as Gerard rushed past him to his office for his book of homilies.

 

“They know,” He said, “I didn’t know that they knew.”

 

Carrie softened, “It’s not a big parish, word travels fast no matter how tight you keep your lips.”

 

He was silent as Gerard shuffled through the papers on his desk and Carrie continued.

 

“Listen… People think and believe a lot of stuff, but none of that stuff is real until you can confirm or deny it for them, yourself, not nodding yes or no when they ask, or getting into a cul de sac of a conversation trying to defend yourself.” She looked back at Gerard, who listened as close as he could, “You have to put your foot down when you say something, or people will think what they want to think, and even then, sometimes, they’ll still think what they want to think, so you have to leave that behind and work with the people willing to believe you… How do you think priests get anything done?”

 

Gerard pulled his first all-nighter since seminary, going over his own material with a delicious Lean Cuisine delivered by Mikey after his first trip to the grocery store in weeks.

 

But the service was smooth and they could coast for an hour or two knowing that it was as if nothing had happened at all. No one deigned to mention the elephant in the room, but Mikey wasn’t approached and hung near Gerard.

 

Ms. Parton gave him a quick smile and complemented Gerard’s service.

 

“You get better and better hon,” She wrapped her hands around a warm cup of coffee, “You’re sure Father Schechter doesn’t just get his sermons from you?”

 

Gerard blushed, “Uh, no, I barely show them to him.”

 

“Keeping your lips sealed, I get it,” She nodded, and gave Mikey a short, meaningful glance, “I can understand not wanting to put everything out there.”

 

Mikey looked away as she kept talking and Carrie brushed past, tapping Gerard on the shoulder, “Just saw Macy’s car out front, I’ll deal with it.”

 

“You know, I do miss Johnny right now,” Ms. Parton continued, “He’s a real sucker for the sad stories, about forgiveness, I have no doubt he would be sitting here crying his eyes out.”

 

“He doesn’t really strike me as a cryer,” Gerard tilted his head and Mikey turned back, tapping him on the shoulder.

 

“Oh not to you maybe but I’ll put on some program and that ASPCA ad comes on?” She laughed and Mikey tapped his shoulder again.

 

“Ms. Parton?”

 

She smiled at Mikey, “Mikey?”

 

“I… You don’t get it, I’m sorry.”

 

“I don’t care about that honey, it’s in the past,” She reached out to touch his hair and he backed away. Gerard frowned.

 

“Mikey?”

 

“No, I know, it was only like a week,” He shook his head, “I thought… I can’t just think that-” He backed up more, into a fold out chair that he grabbed to steady himself, “Excuse me!” He blanched almost instantly, “Only twelve people-” Gerard looked back at the small gathering, who had barely registered he had been calling for their attention, “Um, sorry-” Gerard stopped him.

 

“Public apology?”

 

“I realized it was a bad idea like a nanosecond ago,” He pressed his face into his palms and Gerard nodded.

 

“I mean you tried.”

 

“Well keep trying,” Ms. Parton raised her hand into the air and Gerard tensed, “No time like the present to say what you should say.”

 

“No-Ms. Parton-”

 

Gerard froze, the room falling to a low whisper when her hand caught it’s attention, he was racked with a flash of jealousy as she turned to them, “Michael here has a little something to say,” She smiled, kind, back at them, “I think you already know what it’s about.”

 

Mikey’s mouth hung open, a suspended state of disbelief, “I…”

 

He looked to Gerard and the small gathering took that moment to shuffle, whisper to each other, yawn, until he spoke again, “I can’t really...I-”

 

“What my brother wants to say-” Gerard moved to step in front of him but Mikey stopped him.

 

“Yeah, what I wanted to say-” He cleared his throat, “-Was that I… made a mistake.”

 

Mrs. Cabello crossed her arms, a angry look settling on her face, while her daughter picked at the hem of her skirt.

 

“I can’t… I mean that’s not an excuse, I’m just… I did something wrong, and I did it-or almost did it because I… thought I could impress Chris, but I made a mistake and I didn’t try to stop it I just… sort of kept participating, and I hurt all of you because of that.” He couldn’t look away from the floor, and Gerard wrapped his arms around himself.

 

“I’m so sorry,” He said, “I feel so bad, I didn’t think about any of you, and you don’t have to forgive me.”

 

He turned quickly and Ms. Parton caught him before he could leave, “I forgive you, hon, don’t worry about a thing.” He nodded and hurried out, back to the office.

 

Gerard waved back to the slowly dissipating crowd, “Thank you all for coming.” They chimed back with goodbyes and thank you’s and he rushed after Mikey to the office.

 

Just in time to dodge a small vase thrown at his head.

 

“Robin!” Carrie screeched, “Have some self control!”

 

Miss Macy was a sight.

 

She was casual today, as if she hadn’t just come over from morning mass at Holy Spirit, her hair in a low ponytail and frizzing around her face. She looked like she hadn’t slept, “Don’t you address me like that Brownstein, not in this whorehouse!”

 

“Whore house-!” Mikey snapped, he was leaning heavily on the desk, holding himself back in a way.

 

“You can’t talk either! Felon!” She pointed at him, “Sneaking into my house! I have nightmares! You and that brother, catching me somewhere-”

 

“My brother would _never-!”_

 

“Like you would never break your word?” She challenged, “A blood drive disguised as a fundraiser? I could have you both in jail for fraud-”

 

Gerard steeled himself, then stepped forward, “Miss Macy,” He smiled and she stuttered, “What a surprise to see you here!”

 

Then she did something strange, she halted, blinking wildly, “I-” She blinked again, and straightened, “I have information, that you lied, and held your blood drive when I explicitly told you, you couldn’t.”

 

“On the grounds that you wouldn’t tell anyone about how my brother snuck into your house, yes,” Gerard nodded, “You were very clear, I know what blackmail is.”

 

She flinched, blinking wildly again, “I-I-I would report you to the Bishop-to the police-”

 

“They could probably get you on blackmail too,” Gerard stepped forward, and she stepped back, “And I can tell them you came in here, destroyed property…” He tilted his head side to side, the vase behind him in a pile of glass, “I don’t have to mention blackmail, you just barged in here, claiming someone was in your house-”

 

“This is a filthy establishment,” She rasped, “Letting in all these gays, and alcoholics in here, and you and Schechter-” She took in a sharp breath, “I can’t believe- this is a church, not a place for some devil-worshipper like you-”

 

“Shut up! Robin, get a hold of yourself!” Carrie grabbed her arm and Miss Macy reeled back.

 

“You were a good woman, Carrie, now you’re here with the _lesbians-”_

 

“Miss Macy!” Gerard shoved himself between them, “I need to ask you to leave-”

 

“Preacher-!”

 

“You know I have prayed, Macy,” Gerard looked down at her as she blinked fast, wiping sweat from her face, twitching and wincing. For a second, Gerard wondered if she was on drugs, or drunk, but she took the second to open her mouth again, and he had to stop that, “I have prayed and asked for wisdom, over and over again, I ask God for answers,” He stepped forward, back her toward the door, her face almost red from anger as she tried to get a word in, “And maybe it’s impossible, because he’s supposed to have all the answers, but I don’t even think he knows why you’re _such a piece of shit.”_

 

She tightened, stomping her foot and screwing her mouth into a tiny shape. Carrie clapped her hand over her mouth but Mikey didn’t even try to conceal his laughter.

 

She glared at Gerard and he glared back before she made a frustrated noise at the back of her throat and stomped out the door to her waiting car.

 

Gerard released a shaking breath and Carrie snorted, “Wow, tell us how you really feel!”

 

“I’m sorry, Carrie.”

 

“For what?” She smiled, “I was thinking it, and normally I would get on you for swearing at her, but she kinda needed to hear that.”

 

Mikey barked out a laugh, his glasses falling from his face as he tried to calm down, pressing his lips together until he made eye contact with Carrie and they both laughed again.

 

“I don’t know, something’s wrong,” Gerard smiled briefly, leaning in the counter, “I mean did you see her? She looked like she just got out of bed, it’s weird.”

 

“It’s the racism,” Carrie shrugged, sitting back down at her computer.

 

Gerard shook his head, “I mean, yeah… But seriously, she would’ve gotten out of church before getting here, would she really dress like that to mass?”

 

Mikey snorted, then composed himself, “I mean, I guess there was that whole blinking thing.”

 

“And the twitching…”

 

“Guys!” Carrie stopped them, showing her palms, “We just had a whole mystery, and all the drama! It’s over now, please, please?” She laced her fingers together, “Please? I don’t want to worry about a coked up Miss Macy.”

 

Mikey and Gerard traded a glance and Gerard sighed, “Yeah, you’re right.”

 

* * *

 

 

_But the day of the Lord will come like a thief,_

_and then the heavens will pass away like a roar,_

_and the heavenly bodies will be burned up and dissolved,_

_and the earth, and the works that are done on it,_

_will be exposed._

 

 

  * **_**_2 Peter 3:10, Bible resting open in Father Brian Schechter’s office, San Antonio, Texas._**_**



 

 

* * *

 

 

“I understand you’re running the place until Father Shechter returns, correct?” James Iha looked up from his files, to Gerard sitting behind the small desk in his office. “Just so I can make it an official statement to the files.”

 

“Yes, he’s away on a mission in Guatemala,” Gerard nodded, “I would say Carrie’s really running it though, she keeps us in line.”

 

“Us, you and your brother?”

 

“Mikey, yeah.”

 

Only a few days had passed after they had rescued Ray from Vinny and Ricky, and it had been total silence to now, when just a half hour ago, Second Class Hunter and Supervisor for San Antonio, James Iha, had come to the door, just barely escaping the rain. Ryan had let him in, unlocking the door and proclaiming, “No service or confession today sir, even churches have a day off.”

 

“I’m sure you can make an exception,” James had shook the water out of his hair and flashed a folded wallet with his laminated badge. Ryan had stepped back in surprise, his eyes wide.

 

“Oh... _oh-_ s-sorry, sir, I-”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” James turned to shake Gerard’s hand, “This isn’t an investigative call, just here for a follow up.” He smiled and asked: “Any chance I could use your bathroom?”  


“Yeah right there,” Ryan pointed and backed shakily into Gerard, “I’ve never met a Hunter before.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Gerard patted his shoulder, “He won’t bite.”

 

Ryan laughed, shakily, staring at the bathroom door.

 

“It’s a beautiful church,” James had said, looking in at the stained glass and columns, “Did you know the original London chapter began in a church? The catacombs were renovated and everything.”

 

“Well, do they have paintings like this?” Gerard coaxed him to the front, bragging just a little about the intricate artwork displayed on the walls and the architecture. He gestured the Mother Mary, poised above the thorn bush, her expression indescribable.

 

“No, actually,” James admired it, “She looks so… Angry.”

 

Gerard stepped up to give her a look. He hummed, “I always thought more… Tired.”

 

James nodded. “Strange how some paintings can do that.” He had turned back to look again at the room, eyes sweeping over the columns and carved pews. “Used to think you’d only see stuff like this in New York… I trained there,” They began back down the steps and he continued, “My mom spilled the beans about our lineage and packed our bags the next night, Chicago to New York in one night and then suddenly I was a Zero Class rookie… she compared it to being turned, and I don’t know how accurate that was, but having your life completely changed in the span of a few hours, or days, while still having parts of it be the same… She said it would put us at equal footing with the world we would be a part of.”

 

Gerard had nodded, having only met James just twice before, he was glad to finally get to know him. Even with the questions of why he was there eating him from the inside.

 

“I guess a lot of people think we’re just born into it, but it’s more like it’s thrust onto us at the same time we start becoming independent, integrated into our identities,” He stopped in front of the confession booth and Gerard had almost offered to step inside so James could finish his speech in private, but he could only watch James trace his fingers over the dented wood where Mikey had taken out his frustration.

 

The memory made Gerard smile now.

 

“I think it was the sixth Director… Mary Wilson, who really started that, she wanted all of us to be able to say no, like a rule, my mom followed that to the letter, moved us to New York and asked me to attend the training and the classes but always told me I could say no, that I didn’t want this life…” James turned back, “I considered it for a long time, I could quit today if I wanted, get a job in their corporate office for a normal life, but they made me Eccentric after two years of basic, and I knew I couldn’t go back…” He paused, glancing at Gerard, “I guess that is where our worlds separate… You didn’t have that choice.”

 

Gerard finally became antsy, tightening his hands and shifting in place, “Not that I’m not enjoying the story, James,” He flashed an apologetic smile, “But why are you here?”

 

James had straightened, “Of course… Could we speak in your office?”

 

Gerard nodded and led the way.

 

“It’s a follow up, to a few things, and I’m trying to get a few details out of a new investigation to see if it connects to an ongoing one, and I guess it’s an introduction… We’ve met before but I know your position as fill-in for Schechter means you take his place as the Trust until he returns.”

 

“Of course,” Gerard said, worry edging his voice, “Whatever you need.”

 

And they were in his office, James shifting into an official posture, scribbling notes into a much loved notebook and binder. His glasses were smudged and he cleaned them as Gerard shoved aside Church paperwork and forms.

 

“Alright,” He said, after Gerard answered his preliminary questions, “So… Our larger investigation,” He took out a few pictures, laying them out in front of Gerard and letting him scan them over before continuing.

 

The first showed a large room, maybe a basement, with a collapsed structure in the middle. An octagonal platform with a torn metal fence surrounding it, around the room, small orange tents about the size of Gerard’s hand were spread out on the floor, mimicking a TV crime scene investigation, but placed in areas the police would never consider important. “Guild work, CSI stuff from the Las Vegas and Nevada chapters, police were never alerted,” Explained James, “But this was the sight of a mass Influence, ties to the mob, if you can believe it.”

 

The second picture was a close up of the structure, it’s waxed wood floor stained with blood and scratches, and, strangely, dead butterflies. Their delicate white wings soaking up red blood.

 

“Our report from the hunters at the scene is hard to piece together, but from our larger investigation, it connects to the blood banks going dry, the Fresh-Turned, everything, this is the closest we’ve gotten to any sort of hypothesis,” James tapped the pool of blood in the picture, “One of those Fresh-Turned was found, still trying to drink it, lick it off the floor, his face burning… he died before those at the scene could confront him…” James paused, discomfort lacing his face, “I can’t give much away, we know the butterflies are a sign of strong nature magic, most likely from a Witch…” Gerard frowned, flashing back to the grocery store and the smell of citrus.

 

“We have the identities of people involved, so just know I’m not being vague to trick you or anything… even with our hunters splintered reports, they’re currently recovering and remembering more and more….” James set out the final two pictures, one, a picture showing the burned face of a vampire, and the other a clean, high school photo of a boy with a trucker’s hat pulled low over his eyes.

 

Gerard gestured at it, “That’s that boy, from the news, they’re saying he ran away.”

 

James shook his head, “All just public persona, the Guild knows he’s connected, the Chicago Trust went missing the same day.”

 

“I haven’t met either,” Gerard shrugged, “I can’t help you.”

 

“I know, but you can help me piece together what happened here, in San Antonio,” James shuffled all the pictures back into his binder, “And maybe it’ll be another string on our board.”

 

“Go ahead,” Gerard motioned to the binder, once again tracing his eyes over the burned face of a dead vampire, confused over the idea that he had died in the first place. His mind raced, thinking over the ways he himself could be killed, stake to the heart, sunlight, too much holy water, decapitation, and even then, most of those could be reversed. Except this way, apparently, drinking blood that could burn you from the inside out. He felt queasy, wondering why they had kept going, drinking even after it had started to kill him.

 

“Earlier in the week, as I’m sure you are aware,” James set out a few far more familiar crime scene photos, the motel room of the Motel Six, “A Guild cleanup crew was called to this sight, now the vampire involved did not stay or give any more information so trying to investigate into their identity would violate Article 4 of Association Law so it is a bit tricky, and that’s not even mentioning the Influenced clerk at the front desk… but the phone call given did give us information that we _can_ work with.”

 

He took a moment to clip everything neatly back into the binder and take a sip of coffee they both had grabbed on a trip through the library.

 

“They mentioned a fight…” He took out another picture, one of a group of high school students standing side by side, all showing off hefted crossbows, one was circled in red Sharpie marker. “... With this man.”

 

“Ricky,” Gerard said, almost on habit, he bit his tongue to punish the slip.

 

“Olson, yeah, you’ve met him?” James leaned forward, eager.

 

Gerard sighed, trying to separate the information in his head. “Mikey… hung around him, and his group, for a while until…” He went through a checklist of what he should, and couldn’t say, “Until they kidnapped a friend of mine, Ray Toro, and… _tried_ to steal blood from the church donations.”

 

“Interesting,” James made a note, “And why would they kidnap Ray Toro, is he a part of the parish?”

 

“Student,” Gerard corrected, “I’ve been working with him on a project for… a class I don’t know, he lost his Sightlessness just a few weeks ago.”

 

James paused, “Would you say they kidnapped him to get to you? Since they tried to steal blood-”

 

“No.”

 

James gave him a look, then said: “Preacher, I mean no disrespect… but this would point to your involvement in the fight that led to the Blackout preceding the cleanup.”

 

Gerard remained silent.

 

“I just want to understand what’s going on,” James pressed, “For both of our worlds, I understand vampires are secretive, by nature or conditioning I won’t ask, but this is…” He faded, then continued, “Sightless are beginning to notice, the amount of Fresh-Turned in the past month alone dwarfs our average from 2004, which granted is still just 1% compared to the rising number of Eccentrics-” He cut himself off, took a breath, then continued, “It’s… scary, for me, us, the Guild… and now it seems I’m in the middle, with Ricky Olson.”

 

He tapped the picture again, “This man is- _was-_ a top graduate, predicted to make First class before most of his class  was moving to Third, but his instructors denied his application due to his worrying interest in Guild Splinter groups, particularly the group responsible for, most notably, _orchestrating the Great Fire of London in 1666.”_ He pounded the table and Gerard flinched, “He was denied his application, quit, and now he’s here? And if we’re correct, he’s been passing himself off as one of your kind, a Dracula, which breaks so many laws it makes me want to chew glass-” He pulled in a deep breath, “-Please, help me out, with anything, anything you can give me, Preacher, I’ll get on my knees and beg.”

 

Gerard hesitated, looking down at Ricky Olson’s smiling face, and sighed, “Ray Toro… I think he’s cursed,” James seemed to melt with relief, “I’ve been helping him, trying to, anyway, for the past few days I’ve been looking into his situation, and he’s staying with a friend of mine now, and I only know this because his roommate Troye Sivan came to me for help after he was Turned, and I only know about Ricky and his friends because Mikey was friends with them, and Vinny, one of those friends, experimented with the ritual and Turned Troye,” Gerard had to almost count on his fingers, watching James process each turn with a tilt of the head, “So it’s been one huge conspiracy, they talked about their Patron and Ricky called the Guild cowards and kidnapped Ray and tried to get my brother on their side, and I’ve mostly just been trying to handle this best I can…. And no, I won’t tell you who had the Blackout.”

 

James stood, grabbing Gerard’s hand, “I need to get this to First Class.”

 

“But-but there’s more-”

 

“Either way it all connects, same MO everytime,” He began stuffing his binder back in his bag, “Group of Fresh-Turned show up, recruit, like your brother, steal and limit blood access, take persons of interest, Ray Toro, and try to unseat the person with the most power, you, in this case, I’ll call Third to contact you for a follow up but this is it, Gerard, this gives us a path to follow and not just reports of Daem-”

 

He was interrupted by Carrie’s sudden scream just outside the office, a scream that ended just as fast with a short cough and a _thump_ , with Ryan shouting: “Hey!”

 

Gerard straightened, rushing past James just in time to see Mikey and Ryan tackle Miss Macy to the ground, even more bedraggled than usual and this time having brought friends. Three Holy Spirit parishioners that moved robotic and quick, trying to pull both of them off Macy.

 

“Carrie!” Gerard yelled, not seeing her anywhere.

 

“Does this happen often?” James stood nearby, mouth agape.

 

“Only just now!” Gerard yelled back, then halted, remembering Miss Macy’s strange and violent behavior the night after the service. “It’s-It’s her!” He pointed to Miss Macy, “She’s been Influenced, for the past few days I think-”

 

“Gerard!” Mikey yelled, pointing to something on the ground beside him as he tried to fight back Miss Macy’s friends. Gerard rushed forward, followed by James, meeting his brother just as Miss Macy snarled out of Ryan’s grip, “-She just came in, it’s Chris-I-I know it, but she came in and-”

 

He gestured desperately to Carrie, lying in a hap on the ground, black blood in a pool around her. James leapt into the fight alongside Ryan, wrestling with the Holy Spirit parishioners and Gerard rushed to Carrie’s side, gaping at the crude wooden stake sizzling in her chest. It was short and unskilled, as if it had been made with the leg of a table with a just a kitchen knife, nowhere near the professionally carved defensive stakes made by the Guild.

 

Hyperventilating, he pulled it from her chest and threw it across the room, the wound smoking like fresh ember. Carrie gasped awake, crying as it healed, “FUCK-” She gulped, grabbing Gerard for support and pointing to the Influenced Miss Macy, “She-she-”

 

“She’s been Influenced-!”

 

“She tried to kill me!” Carrie hissed, standing, “You tried to _kill me!”_

 

Together, James, Mikey, and Ryan, had subdued the parishioners, having had the advantage of vampiric strength and speed alongside years of Guild training. James had smartly held onto Miss Macy before Mikey could get his hands on her.

 

Carrie surged forward, hissing and cursing, “You _evil bitch! You think you can kill me?!”_

 

Gerard grabbed her just in time as Miss Macy screeched, angry and hateful, James hunched back, still holding on. “Ms. Brownstein please! Save your strength!”

 

“What about saving you the _trouble!”_ Carrie countered, “Or saving you the paperwork! I’ll Turn her here and now and then she’ll fucking see!”

 

“See how you’ve sinned against God-!” Miss Macy struggled and James clapped a hand over her mouth.

 

“She’s been Influenced Ms. Brownstein-”

 

“Not much work if you ask me!” Carrie snapped, but took a breath anyway, muttering under her breath.

 

She suddenly stumbled and Gerard led her to a chair in the office, where she drifted to sleep almost immediately, the hole in her chest going through the scarring process.

 

The he turned to Miss Macy.

 

“Look at me,” He said, looking her in the eye. James held her in place as she tried to look away. Mikey clocked the two parishioners that he’d been struggling against and they fell to the floor, unconscious.

 

“Look at me, Miss Macy.” He said again, more forceful, and Mikey reached up to cover James’ ears.

 

“Tell me why you’re here.”

 

She struggled, fighting against the Influence and trying to adhere to the Influence already guiding her.”Shut-”

 

“Tell me,” He repeated himself, _“Why are you here?”_   


She snapped to attention, swaying as if dizzy, questioning who to listen to.

 

“I… He-” She snarled, “Shut up!”

 

_“Tell me.”_

 

She made like she was choking, “He’s-” She coughed, ragged, “He wants you dead!”

 

The phone rang and they all jumped, Miss Macy falling to the floor in a heap.

 

Ryan dropped his hostage, “That’s not ominous, right?”

 

“Not even close,” Mikey shook his head, “Don’t even answer.”

 

James knelt down to examine Miss Macy, delicately pulling back her eyelids and rooting through his bag for a small pen light, “Best guess she’s been under Influence for about a week.”

 

The phone rang again, the seconds ticking away.

 

“Longer,” Mikey said, on edge, “When she and Carrie were fighting after…” He looked to Gerard before he could finish. “But we only heard them, who knows how many times she’s come over?”

 

The phone rang and Ryan cut it off, answering with a shaky: “Hello?”

 

He paused, then held it out, his face full of fear, “It’s for you,” He said, looking to Gerard.

 

“Why don’t we have fun mysteries?” Mikey asked in a hoarse whisper, “Like the Hardy Boys? Or Nancy Drew?”

 

Gerard grabbed the phone, “Hello?”

 

“Did you like my present?” Chris asked. Gerard could hear him smiling. “She’s so awful, I mean can you imagine being that cruel? Sure I’ve done some shitty things, but she just lives like that.”

 

“What do you want, Chris?”

 

“The rest of the blood, and you, dead, but I’ll just take the blood if that’s all you can manage… And maybe a world where Trusts don’t exist and we can live like they did before Association Law screwed it all up.”

 

“That’s what your Patron wants,” Gerard flashed James a look, and Mikey moved to listen in, “Now what do you want?”

 

“I want to pay my debt, and I believe him, my Patron, you would too, if you listened.”

 

“That’s so hilarious how you think that,” Mikey ripped the phone away and snarled into the receiver, “You fucking piece of shit, get out of Texas and suck-”

 

Gerard pulled it back before he could finish, “Why would we give you any more blood, jackass, you have it all already.”

 

Chris paused and said something neither of them could hear, “How about this for a reason?”

 

He shuffled and the phone crackled. Then, Gerard’s heart fell through the floor as Joe yelled, quickly: “Gerard! Don’t-!”

 

Chris shushed him, “And if you get here in under thirty minutes!”

 

More shuffling and it was Ray Toro: “I’m so sorry-”

 

Mikey was already sprinting to the library but Gerard couldn’t stop listening to Chris gloat, squeezing the phone until he could hear the plastic shift in his hand, “Oh, and if you even think about the fucking Guild, I’ll kill them, I don’t even care, I just want you ruined, Preacher.”

 

Gerard took a moment to steady himself, “Where?”

 

Chris gave him a vague clue to some place at the edge of town and hung up, leaving Gerard in a dizzying silence.

 

He dropped the phone, “I have to go.”

 

James protested, “Preacher, whatever it is, let me call my team-”

 

“No,” He said, “Ryan, get these people to the daycare until they wake up, don’t call the Guild.”

 

Maybe it was his expression, but Ryan didn’t ask questions, “Yessir.”

 

“I can have a team go on standby, they’re some of the best for stealth, just wait and I can-”

 

“No.” Gerard turned back to James, regretting the Influence that slipped through, “If Ricky is with them, he’ll know, I’m doing this with Mikey, and that’s it.” He stressed every word, knowing Mikey would pull around with the hearse any minute, “He’s the only one I trust.”

 

* * *

 

_Application Form_

 

_Richard Olson_

 

_Early enrollment for advancement to Upper Class Huntership_

 

_DENIED_

 

_On the grounds of: Mental Instability, Behavior, and Attitudes_

_expressed outside of training._

 

 

  * **_**_[REDACTED], New York City, New York._**_**



 

 

* * *

 

  


Gerard did regret his decision to leave James behind, but only after everything truly went south.

 

It seemed just seconds after Mikey had pulled the hearse into the dusty yard of the storage center on the edge of town, did any agreements or deals him and Chris had made over the phone seem to fly out the window.

 

Only a few seconds, because that was when Balz had rammed Ricky’s red classic car full speed into the hearse. Gerard swore loudly, words he really shouldn’t have been saying in his clerical collar, and watched Mikey get rammed with one ton of metal and glass and plastic, his body bending awkwardly as Gerard became sandwiched between him and the door. Glass flying into his face and black blood matting his hair. He could see Balz through the driver’s side window, smiling and licking his chops, his face cracking like bone and his hair matted and greasy.

 

Gerard put his arm around his brother as the seatbelt choked him, his face twisted in disgust as they met eyes, and he was almost glad to die because: _“At least I don’t have to look at that anymore.”_

 

Not an hour later, he was alive again, inside of a large mobile home filled with office supplies. An overflowing workload that spilled from piles upon piles of paper and filing cabinets. For a few minutes he could only listen to the sound of his bones cracking back into place, fusing back together as he healed, and to the sounds of muffled talking and breathing. The linoleum floor he was resting on was covered in a fine layer of dirt and dust, and every move he made, even the most minute was a stabbing sensation up his whole body.

 

He coughed, and turned his neck to find Mikey anyway.

 

A crumpled heap on the floor, and a little worse for wear, his parka was torn and shedding down.

 

But he was breathing.

 

His leg shifted, cracking loud and painfully back into place and Gerard cried out, squeezing his eyes shut. The pain faded into a dull ache and the worst of it was over.

 

“Oh, good! You’re awake,” Chris stomped into the room, loud on purpose to make Gerard’s head throb. “Balz had his fun with that whole thing.”

 

Gerard sat up, eyeing Mikey and glaring at Chris sat in a rolling chair. He was listening to a voice through a cell phone identical to the one Gerard had found not long ago, burned and melting in his microwave. The voice was distorted and calm and Chris looked to be on Cloud 9 listening to it.

 

Then the call cut and Chris dropped the phone to the floor, standing and crushing it under his boot.

 

“What…” Gerard swallowed, his voice ragged, “What is he?”

 

“Balz?” Chris asked.

 

“He’s not a vampire.”

 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Chris gave him the same wicked grin from that night in the church, “He’s great though, you just have to get past the smell.”

 

Gerard twisted to stand, watching a broken bone in Mikey’s wrist shift back into place. “We had… a deal.”

 

“Newsflash,” Chris rolled his eyes, expression turning sour, “This wasn’t about that.”

 

“You have the blood, had it, anyway, in the hearse,” Gerard snarled, “Salvage what you can and give me my friends.”

 

“What about my friends!” Chris hissed back, “You ran Vince out of town, jerkface! We caught him at city limits and he won’t even go past the Welcome sign,” His face darkened, “Said he could feel you still breathing down his neck.”

 

Gerard blinked, thoughts racing.

 

“In my defence,” He said, “It’s his own fault.”

 

“For what?” Chris asked, almost innocently, “Wanting to do his job? Or running into the only vampire that can Influence his own kind?”

 

Gerard took a step back and Chris smiled, gloating, “Bet you didn’t even know! My Patron was almost gonna come here and kill you himself when I told him what a nuisance you were, but then I told him all about Vinny, that’s what this is about, you, your brother, and that cursed motherfucker are gonna be ours.”

 

Gerard let his bragging go in one ear and out the other, looking around the office for anything that could help, but with Mikey still healing, it was a long shot.

 

“Where’s Joe? And Ray?”

 

Chris tsked, but leaned into the next room over.

 

Two more rolling chairs were pushed into the room, one, with an unconscious Ray Toro, the other, Joe, secured in place with duct tape that was rubbing his wrists raw. His mouth was also covered with duct tape, his eyes darting every which way, lingering on Gerard with a quick look of relief before trying to lean away from a stone faced Ricky, who held a crossbow to his head.

 

Balz was behind them, smiling wide, his eyes shining with the red Gerard would always remember seeing in digital photos. They met eyes and Balz waved, “I thought you looked delicious flying from that car!”

 

Gerard grimaced, trying to block the memory of his twisted and ugly true face.

 

Mikey twisted, his bones cracking and setting, and he screamed, rocketing to a sitting position with blood red tears streaming from his face. He scrambled wildly and Gerard grabbed him as he breathed ragged and sobbing, “I can’t-!”

 

“Fuck, are you kidding me?” Chris whined, “I thought he was just pretending, do I really have to go through this again?”

 

Mikey clung to Gerard’s outstretched arms, shivering, Joe tried to speak through his gag, the words muffled and impossible to understand.

 

Shakily, he got to his feet.

 

“You fucking-” Mikey said, gulping air, “You-”

 

“Blah blah blah,” Chris interrupted, “You were on your way, Mikey, my Patron had real hope for you, and then you had to be a dumbass and go all ‘Family is important to me’! Fuck off!”

 

“P-Patron this, patron that, get a _brain_ ,” Mikey stuttered, “Suck a cock and get out of San Antonio.”

 

“I have orders now, Benedict Arnold!” Chris shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at them, “And that means you, your brother, and Ray are coming with us, and then you’ll see! Or! I’ll kill you and everyone else in this fucking city, starting with your Eccentric pet!” Joe flinched, frowning at the word and trying to speak through the duct tape until Ricky jabbed him in the back with the crossbow.

 

Thunder rumbled outside and a few ravens squawked their annoyance.

 

“You have your blood, now let us go,” Mikey let go of Gerard, who shuffled closer, “You wanna make me pay? For dumping your ass? Or do I have to invite you like everywhere else?”

 

Balz stepped in front of Chris, and to things happened at once: Ray Toro woke up with a start, and Chris jumping onto Mikey, screaming: “It’s _psychosomatic!”_

 

Ricky reeled back, trying to aim and Joe pushed the rolling chair back, running into him and pushing him back into the wall. Gerard yelped, rushing to grab Chris off of Mikey but was interrupted almost in midair by Balz who grabbed him like a ragdoll and threw him through the wall. Papers scattered everywhere caught in the wind as an electric storm brewed above them. The ground was hard dirt and rocks and Gerard gathered some in his fist as Balz started forward, throwing it into his eyes.

 

Balz howled in pain, clawing at his face and he seemed to grow taller before Gerard’s eyes, the skin falling away from his bony arms and legs. Black claws sprouted from his fingers and his spine bent forward, protruding from under a thin layer of skin as his jacket fell away. Gerard looked away in disgust and ran past him, launching himself onto Chris and pulling him off of MIikey who scrabbled toward Joe and slashing Ricky across the face.

 

Gerard hissed at Chris and bent his knees, preparing to jump but instead had the wind knocked out of him again by Balz, reaching around his torso with long spider like fingers. Again he was thrown through the air, completely weightless until he was caught again and pushed to the ground.

 

In the three seconds he took to catch his breath, Gerard had to see something that would haunt him long after this ordeal was finished.

 

Balz’s face was stretched and gaunt, loose and translucent skin stretched over distorted bone and and jaws. It was cracked and hollow in places, his eyes sunken into his skull and the irises broken and torn, the pupils larger than they should have been. His teeth had somehow grown through his skin, rotting incisors twisted and pointed at odd angles and growing past their limits. He made a sound like wood scraping over styrofoam, a laugh that Gerard could feel in his lungs.

 

 _“Wendigo,”_ Gerard whispered, disgusted at the very word, a hunter cursed into the shape of a beast after taking from the wrong table, addicted to the taste of blood and dead flesh.

 

Balz’s tongue was scarred and gray, swiping dryly over what was left of his lips. His hands pushing down harder and harder into Gerard’s chest until-

 

He screamed, a hollow and empty sound, and pulled away with a start, his hand smoking.

 

Gerard looked down in shock, pulling at his shirt to reveal the silver cross around his neck. Balz whimpered, examining the burn, and Gerard tripped away, jumping at Ricky before he could unload another arrow at Mikey. He grabbed the crossbow and crushed it between his fingers, locking the mechanism and throwing it to the side.

 

Joe was up and hefting a baseball bat when Gerard turned back, cracking it over Chris’s head and nodding excitedly to Gerard, “Thanks for coming anyway!”

 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Gerard couldn’t help but smile as Lightning flashed overhead.

 

Mikey was set to freeing Ray, who could only cough, his whole body leaning into trying to breathe. Ricky stood, dazed, and Chris screeched, running at Joe until Gerard tackled him. Mikey joined, quickly instructing Joe to get Ray out and not to worry about them.

 

“What about that thing!?” Joe pointed at Balz and Mikey screamed as bravely as he could.

 

“What the fuck!”

 

Chris pushed Gerard away and Mikey replaced him, filling his sight with things that didn’t look like what he had just seen. Gerard righted himself and touched the necklace, yanking it off his neck as quick as he could.

 

“You’re gonna fight that thing?!” Joe yelled over the thunder and Gerard shrugged, breathless and confused.

 

“Get Ricky!” He yelled back instead of answering, pointing at the Hunter as he rooted through the desks and filing cabinets.

 

Ray Toro hacked up a clot of blood and Gerard faltered, kneeling close, “Ray! Ray, listen to me!”

 

“I can’t-” Ray pressed his palms into his face, breathing heavy and coughing up blood, “I can’t-” He gasped, looking up at Gerard and his eyes were white, spilling over with tears like they had at Brendan’s grave. He clawed at his throat and shook his head.

 

“Ray,” Gerard grabbed him by the shoulders, “Just-!”

 

Balz grabbed him around the middle, thrusting him back into his face and roaring angrily, it grated in Gerard’s ears like sheet metal on cement and he couldn’t look away. Joe yelled, whipping his bat around Chris’s middle, “Gerard!”

 

Mikey had been thrown to the ground and yelled: “Joe! Look out!” As Ricky swung around from where he had been digging in a desk.

 

Then, Ray Toro screamed.

 

Holding his head between his hands, he let out the most gut-wrenching scream Gerard had ever heard. A scream that grew roots in his mind and brought him to tears, shaking his heart and filling him with despair. It seemed to come from all around them, as if Ray had only had to open his mouth and the sound did the rest, shaking the air and making their ears bleed, Balz felt to the ground on his knees, still clutching Gerard as tightly as he could, close to his face and breathing sick air into Gerard’s face.

 

He recoiled, finding himself back in the present, and as Ray fell to the floor, asleep, Gerard brandished the silver crucifix like a knife and pushed it into Balz’s sunken eye.

 

An entirely new scream took over as Ray’s faded away, nothing compared to the anguish Gerard had just felt. Balz’s face burned at the touch of silver, his eye melting and crumbling into ash. Chris shouted behind him: “Stop! Please! Stop-!”  


Balz fell, dead, and Gerard was tackled by Chris, “You killed him! He was my friend! From my Patron! He was my _friend!”_

 

“Get off!” Mikey pulled him away hissing and spitting at each other, “Wendigos don’t have _friends_ you brainwashed-”

 

“He was my friend! _You killed him!_ You-!”

 

Gerard pulled Chris away, locking his arms to hold him tight, “We had a deal! Maybe I wouldn’t have had to kill him if-”

 

Ricky made him stop in his tracks.

 

“Let him go!” His voice shook, tears tracing down his dusty face, “Let him go! Or I swear I’ll kill him!”

 

Texas, being Texas, had provided Ricky with an easily found firearm, stored in the creaking desk drawers of the mobile home. He was pointing it at Joe, who was splayed on the ground, cranking his neck to look up at Ricky, showing his palms, desperate to make him calm down.

 

Mikey held out his hands, “Ricky-”

 

“What was that!” Ricky asked, his voice cracking, “I can’t… I can’t stop it, it’s in my head-”

 

“Ricky just put the gun down-” Gerard directed and Ricky shouted back:

 

“Let him go! Make it stop! Make it stop! I can’t-”

 

“Ricky please-!”

 

“Ricky just put it down and-!”

 

“It won’t stop! What is he?! Why can’t I-”

 

“Ricky if you just-!”

 

“Shut up! _SHUT UP! I can’t-!”_

 

Gerard added weight to his words: _“Ricky-!”_

 

A sharp crack made him drop Chris, ears ringing harshly. Chris tripped forward and Ray was awake, trying to stand, his broken arm impeding his progress.

 

He couldn’t look, keeping his eyes on Mikey in some sort of desperate attempt to make it a lie. Make it just a trick of the flashing lightning and the ground shaking thunder. He felt dizzy.

 

His steps unsteady, it seemed like Mikey couldn’t look away until Chris grabbed Gerard from behind, forcing his head to the ground so the only place he could look was at Joe’s motionless head.

Ricky dropped the gun and copied Chris, grabbing Ray by the arm and making him cry out, squeezing the blue cast as hard as he could. Mikey barely moved until Gerard made a muffled sound, unable to cry.

 

“Hey-”

 

“Shut up,” Chris grabbed him by the neck and Mikey flinched, looking back to Joe.

 

“He-He needs help-”

 

Chris snarled and Gerard felt limp, beholden to Chris’ guiding hand, but he grabbed Mikey tight, making it so they wouldn’t have to look anymore.

 

A congress of ravens had gathered in the trees and on the buildings around them, cawing and yelling loudly. Chris bristled with anxiety and led them around the building to where an ugly van sat dormant. Ricky did the same with Ray, who fought as best he could, going limp and dragging on the ground or kicking out until his arm would twist awkwardly and he’d be in too much pain to go on.

 

Gerard should have done the same.

 

But he could see through the windows of the mobile home and out to the doorway now dripping with blood.

 

He could barely acknowledge the familiar faces that greeted them when they were thrown into the back, Ryan, from the grocery store, whose hands were bound in some sort of metal. And his tall friend with the bruised knuckles, whose eyes had been covered with cloth. He was only restrained with duct tape.

 

Both were unconscious.

 

“Got a call,” Chris spoke to Ricky as they loaded themselves into the cab, “He’ll want them all, except the Witch, he says to just dump him on the way, just inside Star Canyon, says he’s got enough Witches.”

 

An hour passed, the van traveling down back roads and bumpy side streets and Gerard found he could only stare at his feet, keeping Mikey from falling over after he had forced himself to sleep on his shoulder.

 

“It’s not-” Ray shook his head, his voice hoarse, “It’s not right, it wasn’t-”

 

“Ray-” Gerard silently begged him to shut up.

 

“No!” Ray insisted, “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that-it-it-I screamed-”

 

“Please-”

 

“I didn’t scream for Joe, I-I get it now! Preacher, it wasn’t supposed to happen like that, I didn’t scream for Joe, I screamed for you!”

 

Gerard looked back up at him, eyelids drooping and a dull anger trying to convince him to shut Ray up by force, but his desperate expression held more than simple denial.

 

Ray’s face twisted in confusion, picking at his fingernails and scratching at the skin under his cast, “It’s not right, Joe can’t be dead, I saw the _truth_ , I know it, like everything was clear, Preacher, Joe can’t be dead, _he isn’t dead.”_

 

* * *

 

 

_From: khammett@SApersonaltherapy.org_

_To: Joethemantrohman@hotmail.com_

 

_Subject: Beginning sessions_

 

_Joseph,_

_I’m glad you came to me for the help you need, especially through_

_such an old friend like Carrie, we’ve known each other for a while_

_and I believe you could benefit from further session._

_As you stated in our introductory meeting, you have selective amnesia_

_at certain points in your life that I believe could stem from a_

_repressed trauma. I will happily work with you to understand this,_

_and maybe even find answers to this problem._

_Again, thank you for coming to me and making an effort in your own_

_mental health, you mentioned this being the bare minimum and even_

_then, it’s a true effort, and that’s what matters._

 

_Kirk Hammett, San Antonio Personal Therapy_

 

 

  * **_**_Unopened email sent to Joe Trohman, San Antonio, Texas, as ravens find him._**_**



 

  


**Author's Note:**

> PSYCH you thought this was a trilogy??


End file.
